I crashed in my motorcycle lesson…
After 11 years working in the motorcycle industry and writing about other people’s crashes, I found myself on the other side of the story.
Well, That Wasn’t the Plan…
On 13th August, I did the one thing nobody in the motorcycle industry wants to do unless there’s a camera present… CRASH! Oh, Millie, you daft woman.
Of all things, it happened mid-lesson, a proper motorcycle crash in one of the busiest towns in Suffolk. Embarrassing, huh? At least she hasn’t worked in the motorcycle industry for 11 years. Oh, wait! Yeah, that too.
I’ve spent around eight years working with motorcycle racers, writing about other people’s injuries in far more spectacular fashion than my own, from the Isle of Man TT to British Superbikes and beyond. Anyway, if you’re ready for a pub-style ramble, minus the beer, grab a pint or a brew and let’s get into it.
As with all things bike-related, I’d planned an entire feature on my journey into motorcycling and what it takes to obtain a full motorcycle licence in 2026. A lot has changed on UK roads over the years, yet the famous phrases “It wasn’t like that in my day” and “If I had to take my test again, I’d fail easily” seem all too common among the biker crowds across the country. So, we thought we’d take you through the process, from dot to dot.
Well, that was the plan, anyway.
My theory test and CBT went like a breeze. A few evenings spent practising on a motorcycle theory app, a few swear words over some blazingly obvious answers I’d managed to get wrong, and I was away. For example, what colour lights does a bomb disposal unit flash? Well, I didn’t know before, but I do now. Blue! Not something you see every day in rural Suffolk, mind.
I had great fun on my CBT, too. I took to the controls really quickly aboard the Kawasaki Z125. Having driven a car for years, I suppose the basic principles weren’t entirely alien to me. I had a great feeling about the day, and the instructors were fab. Hilariously, the older chap I was training alongside managing a classic Inbetweeners Jay-style crash before we’d even left the yard on his own Kawasaki Z125. Legs akimbo, but thankfully only his pride was damaged. He still passed, which made me laugh at the time. Of course, I had absolutely no idea just how much of a plonker I’d look in comparison.
13th August 2026: The big-bike upgrade
It was the morning of my big-bike upgrade. For the first time, I’d be swinging my leg over the wonderful Kawasaki Z650 somewhere other than on a stand at EICMA in Milan or in an exhibition hall at Motorcycle Live. I’d filmed the whole morning as part of my job, genuinely excited to finally get on a bigger bike. I was pinching myself that this was the work I got to call my job.
I’d familiarised myself with the bike before we left the office. I thought I’d be worried about its extra weight and power compared with the Z125 I’d completed my CBT on just weeks earlier, but I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t something I was worried about at all.
Different riding schools do things differently, but the school I learnt with took me straight out onto the road. My CBT had been only three weeks earlier, so I suppose they were confident enough in me to give it a go and hit the road straight away. A few friends of mine were surprised when I told them, as their first experience had been on a local concrete pad, practising manoeuvres before heading out onto the road.
I can’t say the thought of that hasn’t crossed my mind a thousand times since, along with an equally large number of “what ifs”. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. It’s fair to say I’d rather have had an incident unfold in a training area than on a public road, but if I’d picked last night’s winning lottery numbers, I’d be a millionaire, too. It’s amazing how much you begin to overthink when you’ve been lying in hospital for a fortnight, unable to sit up as your pelvis is swimming about like a minestrone soup.
Helmets and gloves on, intercoms strapped in and off we went. We left the office, and as soon as we pulled out onto the road, I thought to myself, “Man, this is easy!”
I followed my instructor, for around 20 to 30 minutes before the accident happened. I felt totally confident with my junctions, roundabouts and zebra crossings. There’s certainly no shortage of those in Ipswich. We were just taking a casual ride through town, conveniently enough in the part of Ipswich that happens to be four minutes from the hospital.
We pulled up at a normal junction. My instructor asked how I was feeling, and I felt SO GOOD! There was nothing at all I was worried about or felt uncomfortable with. I’d worked in the motorcycle industry for 11 years. To me, it isn’t just a job; it’s a hobby I’ve always been lucky enough to call my job, too. So, to finally give this riding malarkey a go, I was really, really chuffed.
That pink haze lasted all of two or three minutes while we were stationary at that junction. It was then my turn to pull out first, and this is where it all went a bit Pete Tong.
The crash: A snog with a tree
Now, I remember the whole thing. I was conscious throughout, and I’m incredibly lucky I didn’t hit my head. But there are things I’m still struggling to make peace with because I simply can’t pinpoint where it went wrong, or how it happened so quickly. Maybe it’s the trauma element. It all happened so fast that, even now, I can’t quite settle on what I think went wrong.
I went to turn right out of the junction and, BOOM, before I knew it, I was having a snog with a tree. For the record, those bloody things do NOT move. And I can be a stubborn woman at the best of times.
I’d landed on the floor almost as quickly as I’d ended up against the tree. I remember screaming for help and rolling around, unable to sit upright. My instructor came to my aid immediately and a bystander called 999 while we made sure I remained lying flat on my back.
At that point, I had no idea what state I was in as such. I just knew I could barely move, and my instinct was to cry for help. I took one glance at my right arm (I’m a lefty, wahey!) and thought, “Errr, that’s not supposed to look like that…” It looked like the S-bend under a kitchen sink.
Aside from the obvious injury, the first thing I did was try to wiggle my toes. I lay there thinking, please, please, just let me be able to move my toes. Voila! After a few seconds of trying, I knew I had movement and feeling in my toes and feet. This is really where things stopped, though.
I remember feeling as though my neck was fine. I’m not sure how I landed, but I definitely hadn’t landed on my head or neck. Although I knew I had movement in my neck and shoulders, we kept my Arai Quantic on until the paramedics arrived, which was absolutely the sensible thing to do. I’d have been a massive hypocrite, having spent years selling motorcycle kit, if I hadn’t followed my own advice about keeping the lid on.
And while we’re on the topic, the Arai Quantic is an incredible helmet. As tempting as it was to try get the thing off, we left it alone until the paramedics came. This chick decided to crash on the hottest day of the year. Thirty-six degrees in Suffolk! A really kind bystander called Julie grabbed her garden parasol and held it over me while I laid there holding my hand too, bless her.
The only part of my body I was really struggling with was what I thought were my hips. I remember trying to lift my knee towards my chest and screaming in pain. It’s a kind of pain I can’t really describe, other than feeling as though my insides were going to fall out if I tried it again.
Enter stage left: the incredible paramedic Grace, along with all the wonderful drugs she gave me.
For the pain, of course.
The injury you can’t always see: The romance between Motorcycles & Pelvic Fractures
When Grace asked me to describe the pain I was experiencing, she immediately applied a pelvic binder. I had no idea at the time just how important that decision could be. I would later discover that I’d suffered an open-book pelvic fracture, made up of multiple fractures to my pelvis.
Motorcycle crashes are one of the mechanisms that can cause serious pelvic injuries, alongside other road traffic collisions and incidents such as horse-riding accidents.
Here comes the boring nerdy bit for those of you who like your gore and bones. In a high-impact motorcycle crash, a pelvic fracture can cause severe internal bleeding. Blood can collect deep inside the body, meaning there may be little or no visible external bleeding to indicate the severity of the injury – sometimes until it’s too late.
Following my motorcycle crash, I was placed in a pelvic binder to help stabilise my fractured pelvis and reduce the risk of further internal bleeding. A binder applies compression around the pelvis, helping to reduce movement at the fracture site and limit bleeding in certain types of pelvic injury. In my case, there were multiple fractures.
The pelvic region can accommodate a significant amount of blood, meaning a serious fracture can result in life-threatening blood loss before the full extent of the injury becomes apparent. Not every pelvic fracture causes catastrophic bleeding, but it’s one of the reasons suspected pelvic injuries following a major crash must be treated as a major trauma emergency.
It’s frightening to think that an injury can be so serious without the full extent of it being visible from the outside.
Why does 12 days on holiday vanish in 5 minutes, but 12 days in hospital feels like a lifetime?
I spent 13 hours in resus at Ipswich Hospital before being transferred to Addenbrooke’s Hospital because of the severity of my pelvic injuries. There, I spent 12 days waiting for surgery to fix my pelvis. The whole experience felt like a blur and a lifetime, all at once.
Luckily, my bed was right by the window, with a perfect view of helicopters on the way down to the landing pad at Addenbrookes. Whenever I see an East Anglian Air Ambulance, it’s a bittersweet feeling for me anyway. They saved my Dad’s life and I’ve fundraised tens of thousands of pounds for them over the years, but it’s also a horrible feeling knowing someone inside that helicopter needs vital care.
I felt incredibly fortunate to have Dr. Jai Rawal and his team looking after me. The major trauma team regularly kept me updated, but with a two surgeries booked and then cancelled, it was a real yo-yo of emotions. I began to lie there and overthink absolutely everything. Would I walk properly again? Would I be able to chase my five-year-old daughter around the garden?
You never realise what a privilege it is to put your own socks on until you can’t do it yourself. Honestly, I’m easily pleased!
Dr. Rawal was incredible and made me feel at ease throughout the entire process, given how insane the situation felt to me. It’s still shocking to think that this is their everyday life, while for me, it’s an event myself and my family will carry with us for the rest of my life.
His fellow, Dr Vlad Paraoan, was also incredible to me and my family. The first thing he said to me was, “I hear we have something in common!”
To which I replied, “If that’s riding motorcycles, you’re clearly much better at it than I am!” I never did ask what bike he had, but the point still very much stands. Addenbrooke’s Hospital is incredibly lucky to have Vlad and his team. He put me at ease and no question ever felt like a stupid one. The look of faces amongst a team with very serious jobs when I said what I did for a job, was just priceless. Particularly when I described SuperBike Magazine as previously being “the one with all the boobs in”. History, eh!
Between Dr. Rawal, Dr. Paraoan and the rest of the team, the surgery went swimmingly. I’ve now got some fairly impressive internal scaffolding, as I keep calling it. When the surgery was finally complete, it genuinely felt as though I’d won the lottery. Even being able to sit up without feeling like I was going to fall apart was incredible, despite the pain – which of course, with hard work will only be temporary.
The people behind the headlines
During the 12 days I waited for my turn in surgery, I met a shedload of bikers who had, one way or another, ended up at Addenbrooke’s following a motorcycle crash. So many stories. So many people who weren’t as lucky as I was, with a much longer road ahead of them.
One person I particularly remember was a chap called Jake, whom I met down in CT. The porters put our beds in the same room while I waited for a CT scan and he waited for an MRI. He’d been involved in a motorcycle crash involving his beloved Aprilia RS 660 at the beginning of July and had remained in hospital ever since. He spoke of the day being normal, him and his father in-law had spent the day in London watching MotoGP at the Outernet. His list of injuries was far more impressive than mine, yet he never seemed to be without a smile, despite everything he and his family had faced.
It puts things into perspective. You can spend years writing about crashes, reading about injuries and covering racing incidents, but meeting the people behind those stories is something else entirely. Behind every headline is a person, a family, a life interrupted and a recovery that doesn’t end when the news cycle moves on.
Recovery
That brings us to now. I’m home, I’ve been cleared to start weight-bearing two weeks ahead of schedule, and I’m looking forward to kicking physio in the arse. I’m walking around the house, although I’m still living downstairs because stairs are currently my worst enemy. Who knew I’d wake up after having a bad dream about a flight of stairs? BLOODY STAIRS!
Recovery is a funny thing. You celebrate the little wins, learn to accept the frustrating days and discover that progress doesn’t always happen as quickly as you’d like. But I’m getting there, one step at a time.
Will I get back on a bike again? Yes – without a doubt. When? I can’t answer that yet. Amongst the hundreds of thousands of questions that fly through your brain following a major trauma I think it’s only normal to not have all the answers. I still don’t have the answers on just how and why this happened, which makes it hard for me to find peace with it right now. However, when my daughter is old enough – I won’t have that fear of jumping back on a bike again. Brave or stupid, I’m not entirely sure. For now – in true Millie fashion, I’m very good at laughing at myself and seeing the funny side of it!
It’s an ironic scenario really, given my career history and how heavily involved I’ve always been promoting the correct rider kit and warning others just how much it can save your gravy if you’re ever in a scenario you really need it. I was cut out of my kit, but even in 36* heat I had full motorcycle kit on – including:
- Arai Quantic – Thankfully I didn’t hit my head, but had I, I had the best lid on. Handcrafted to deliver exceptional strength with reduced weight, the shell features Arai’s signature smooth, rounded design, engineered to help glance off impact forces and disperse energy.
- Richa Airstream X-2 Jacket – Made from abrasion-resistant Ripstop and Softshell materials, this garment features Richa AVS ventilation, a removable thermal liner and a versatile waterproof jacket with a 10,000mm Aquashell Pro LTD membrane. Level 1 D3O limb protection is fitted as standard, with the option to upgrade to Level 2, plus compatibility with D3O back and chest protectors.
- Richa Apache 2 Cargo Trousers – They feature D3O Ghost hip and knee protection, delivering reliable impact protection in a lightweight design. With an AA safety rating, they offer an excellent balance of protection, durability and style for riders who demand more from their gear.
- Dainese Suburb D-WP Trainers -The Dainese Suburb D-WP shoes combine lightweight comfort with waterproof protection, making them ideal for riding in a variety of weather conditions. Designed specifically for the female foot, they feature an asymmetric Groundtrax® sole to deliver excellent stability, grip and traction, ensuring comfort both on and off the bike.
Stay tuned for some exciting launches to come for 2027 – with EICMA on the horizon and MCL to shortly follow, it’s an exciting year for motorcycle fans and riders across the globe. Make sure you’re following us across our platforms to be part of the conversation:
Millie Gilbert | SuperBike Magazine | https://www.instagram.com/milliecgilbert/
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