Heaven on two wheels

What is it about women drivers that turns otherwise liberal, modern men into macho freaks? When I tell my boyfriend I am going to do a scooter training course designed especially for women, he laughs. "What are they going to teach you - how to put on lipstick at the traffic lights?" he sneers. "Or how to avoid helmet-hair? Perhaps the best way to decide which way you want to go, then change your mind several times?" See what I mean?

Actually, I reply, what they teach you at Girls Angels, apart from how to ride safely, of course, is how not to be bullied by other drivers, especially men. Angels is the brainwave of Alison Grade, a 32-year-old former television producer. "I started learning to ride motorbikes 18 months ago because I couldn't face using public transport," she explains.

"I went on training courses, but the majority of the other students were men. And it was intimidating because they got really competitive." Grade guessed she wasn't the only female unhappy with the training courses on offer, so she got a loan from the bank and bought a fleet of scooters and motorbikes, hired two female instructors, and Girls Angels was born.

As well as the Compulsory Basic Training (CBT) course (needed to ride any scooter if you haven't passed your driving test, or took it after February
2001), there are specially tailored chick programmes such as, Your Route to Work and The School Run. They even offer advice on how not to get ripped off at the garage and more practical tips on how to choose the right bike, clothing and security.

If Gwyneth Paltrow can zip around London on a Vespa then so can I, is my reasoning as I arrive for my CBT at a school playground in Fulham, which is commandeered by the Angels every Saturday. My instructor is Haidee Bailey, a tall blonde biker babe in tight leathers and wearing shimmery eye shadow. Having been a motorbike courier for nine years, she is as comfortable on two wheels as she is on two feet. I am not.

My experience of driving motorised vehicles is limited to Dodgem cars, which I was better at crashing than driving. Haidee is great at allaying my fears.

"Men are used to dealing with fear and pain because a lot of them spent their childhoods falling out of trees and off bikes," she says. "Women don't tend to have that background, which can either give them an over-exaggerated fear of hurting themselves or no risk perception at all. Their learning speeds are different, too. Men are more keen to prove themselves and can rush through the course, picking up bad habits. Women take more time to learn properly."

However, any thoughts of looking like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday, whizzing about town on my Vespa dressed in a summery cotton dress are immediately dashed when Haidee firmly instructs me to don large waterproof trousers, big boots, a silver jacket with armoured shoulders and elbows, gloves and a fluorescent pink vest. Apparently, the biggest danger to scooter riders is car drivers not seeing them, but there is no danger of anybody missing me in this get-up. I look like Mad Max in DayGlo.

I am stumped at the start; I can't even get the scooter, a zippy bright yellow Honda, off the stand because it is so heavy, never mind start it. Haidee comes to the rescue and I am ready to ride. In the safety of the empty school playground, of course.

After a couple of hours of weaving in and out of plastic cones without falling off and practising indicating and emergency stops, I am feeling smug. "Go girl!" shouts Haidee in encouragement. "But let's try and get above eight miles an hour this time, shall we?"

Following a talk on everything from insurance and tax to weather conditions and how to navigate a roundabout, I am ready to hit the road. This is the bit I have been dreading. Not being a driver, my knowledge of the road is minimal, but Haidee hooks me up to a one-way radio so she can talk me through it. I can hear her calm voice as she tells me to turn left and right, watch out for car doors opening and to turn off my indicators.

It is fortunate she can't hear me as my shrieks would deafen her. We stop in a quiet cul-de-sac so that I can practise u-turns and Haidee immediately lights up a cigarette, the only sign that she is finding my first road experience as stressful as me.

After a couple of hours of sheer terror, but no casualties, I make it back to the playground. And with a bit more practice, I'm sure I will be a competent rider. In the meantime, if you see a girl on a scooter, dressed in head-to-toe waterproofs, gripping on to the handlebars for dear life and going at 8mph, I suggest you give her a wide berth.

Girls Angels: 07984 156797 or visit www.girls angels.co.uk. The one-day CBT costs £120, plus £10 to cover clothing and equipment hire.