It was my second week, and I could sense the 15th of January inching closer. The riding lessons were nearly useless. Nobody was explaining anything about controlling the KTM. i was progressing, way too slowly.

With Brahim (who works for us at Bab El Atlas), I went to one or two motorbike shops around the town, found a Docker Apollo for sale, new. I bought it for €1200 and was told I could pick it up the next day. We spent the rest of the day getting insurance for the bike, and doing the required paperwork.

That evening, I discovered the vast selection of motorbike "howto" videos on YouTube. It was a revelation!

I spent a whole evening reading, watching and learning that you have to learn to feather the clutch for low-speed manoeuvres. I suddenly understood what the monitor was trying to tell me in mixed Arab and Tashelheit, along with spasmodic hand clenching, that made me think he had problems with his hand.

Next day, went to pick up the Docker. The motor was in pieces on the workshop floor. The workshop floor was in the street, in front of the motorbike shop. It was coated in a year-old mixture of oil and dust, and reminded me of my dad's motorbike shop in 1960s England.

The mechanic, Rachid, had the cylinder head and cyclinger block off, and was just finishing fitting a different piston. I was a bit disappointed that my new motorbike had broken down before I'd even touched it, but Brahim and Rachid explained that I was sold a 49cc motorbike, so I could legally use it with my car licence,  but as 49cc wasn't much power, they always converted new motorbikes into 110cc motors. It would get a move on, and at no extra cost. I bought a cheap helmet and some gloves.

I left the shop in a flurry of fits, starts, stalls and even one downhill wheelie.

The next day, there were no guests, Brahim had his day off, and I rode up the valley, slowly and unsteadily until I reached a village football ground. This was a levelled patch of desert, with a low wall consisting of the rocks people had cleared off the field. Brahim had told me the village used a different football ground, near to the village.

I made a line of fist-sized rocks, spaced at 2 metres, the same as the driving school cones were. I spent several hours learning to slalom with the bike. I couldn't feather the clutch, it was either in or out, but I experimented with the gears and found that the best set-up was 3rd gear and absolutely no throttle. Second gear was for starting off uphill. First gear was useless. 4th was a lofty dream so far.

Practicing with the Docker, I managed to vastly improve on the KTM. I practiced feathering the clutch and using the rear brake. After a few days, I went out on the road and used all the gears, riding at 60 km/h and avoiding the town as much as possible.

Riding in town terrified me!

You need to experience driving in a small Moroccan town to understand just how insane it is: People will overtake on either side. They will drive on the left. They will turn with no indicators. They will drive at 15 km/h while they chat with their passenger. They will totally ignore stop signs, give way signs, roundabout priority, roundabout direction (!). Add to that, pedestrians who cross the road without looking, bicycles that cut in front of you, stray dogs, cats, insane people, People from the mountains that come to town once a week for the souk, know little of the highways code, and care even less.

Other road users continue to terrify me to this day, but these days I consider Moroccan road users to be like a herd of goats: Just as unpredictable and less disciplined.