On September 19th 1982 I pulled out in front of a car on my Norton Commando. My injuries consisted of the usual cuts and abrasions, some fractures and, more permanently, a lesion of my right Brachial plexus (the Clapham Junction of the nervous system for the arm and shoulder as many of you will know) which left me with little function or feeling in my right arm. However the nerves were not torn out at the root so were, therefore, capable of some repair. Through the expertise of several surgeons, physiotherapists, the care of nurses and the love of my Mother and Father I regained enough use of my arm and hand to conduct a relatively normal life.

Motorcycling, however, was over. Or, rather, I quit. I didn't investigate whether it would be physically possible to ride again. I Just assumed that it wouldn't. And even if I had known the folly of this view at the time, I would still have held back as I had the feelings of people who cared about me to consider.

Well, time passed and I found myself middle aged, (and a bit more independent than I would really have wished to be). I also found my self furiously coveting motorcycles once again...both for there own sake and for what you can avoid by owning one (e.g. being in a car, train or 'bus) And also, without really meaning to, I began to weigh up the possibility of riding again. A friend put me on to the NABD and I was quick to appreciate that compared to many of the people I read about in Open House my disability was particularly minor.

I also appreciated, through reading Open House magazine, that just about any control could be worked with any extremity.

Next I began to consider what the nature of this conversion should be. On paper, I ran through the permutations so much that, at times, no control was envisaged in its original place. The blocks I kept encountering were caused by my unwillingness to entrust my right hand with anything important to do. I sketched thumb throttles, linked braking system, foot clutches, kliktronic kneecaps, servo-assisted nose-wiping...Prof. Pat Pending and I would have had a lot to say to each other, we could have jeered at Wm. Heath Robinson's simple-mindedness.

But reason regained her throne and I remembered the old saw "keep it simple", stupid. I decided to trust my right hand with operating the front brake (experience on my bicycle convinced me that my faith would be justified) and simply move the throttle to the left-hand bar.

Billy at the NABD assured me that this conversion was fairly commonplace and would present no problem and so I approached the DVLC to enquire about the state of my motorcycle licence.

Expecting difficulty, I felt like the man with the battering -ram who suddenly had the castle gate opened to him...the woman who dealt with my enquiry could not have been more helpful and understanding. I supplied my complete medical history, a description of the machine I would be riding and the name of my GP and in not many weeks I learned that my licence was good...no restrictions, nothing. Similarly, with insurance, I was delighted to here no premium would attach to my disability simply for its own sake. I realised that the NABD campaigners had been here before me and my gratitude to the organisation grew.

But the replacement throttle (from a Honda firestorm) soon arrived, courtesy of Billy, and there was no excuse to delay things any longer. As can be seen in the photo, this kind of throttle isn't part of the switch unit so I could swap it to the left-handle bar without disturbing existing switches (whose disposition is ideal...all those required when in motion are on the left). I merely had to drill a small hole in the handlebar for the lug to sit in. The twist-grip is displaced to the left by about an inch and so extends slightly beyond the bar-end but this is not a problem (unless one is obsessive about symmetry). I still have to machine a bar end to fit.

As to the throttle and return cables they just swapped over. I felt like the battering-ram man again! No adjustment was required that wasn't within the scope of existing adjusters and, with a bit of fiddling, the throttle would open freely and snap shut a both extremes of steering lock and all points in between. Scarcely daring to believe that the switch had gone so smoothly, I replaced the tank and seat started up and went for a ride. First time off I was able to start of smoothly and then bring the machine to a controlled halt—at the opposite wall three feet away.

On June 15th 2002, the day England beat Denmark in the world cup I wheeled the bike to the deserted Nine Elm Fruit and Veg. Market and spent an hour under the supervision of my friendly dispatch-rider neighbour practising stops, starts, emergency stops and other CBT type manoeuvres. Operation of the clutch and throttle with the same hand was easy (ish) to co-ordinate and my gear-changes lost their tentativeness quite quickly. I even managed to odd blip when changing down. Then rode back to my flat on the road, I was biking again.

And, rather than I was starting from scratch, some of the old experience and roadcraft (such as they were in a twenty-two y ear-old who nearly killed himself) politely edged there way to the front and riding began to feel familiar sooner that I'd dared hope, even after twenty years of being forgotten about, we're pretty clever like that, us human beings. From that time to this (cold, rainy November) I've ridden nearly 4,000 miles. Occasionally I've looked down at the road beneath my feet and noted its like really big sandpaper going by at 80mph. But, so far, there have been no truly scary moments (touch wood). If this is due to me then I think it's because I try to be the kind of biker I was slightly scornful of in my youth i.e. cautious, highly visible, and mildly interested in fuel-consumption.

My right hand works the front brake just fine even with the flexion available in only three fingers and no extension in any (I keep it hooked over the lever). The clutch/throttle combination now feels wholly natural and I'm not sure I wouldn't keep it that way even if I could revert to an orthodox set-up.

That's about all really. I hope I've made it clear I love being on a bike again. And thanks to NABD, I am.