News of my scooter adventures were greeted with much amusement by my new colleagues.

And it is no surprise that a new boy crashing his bike within seconds of picking it up should give the office such a chuckle.

Once the initial shock of hitting the parked car was over, I too found it funny.

I arrive from England, never having ridden anything other than a variety of Renault cars and my old BMX; I rent a bike and I crash a bike less then a minute later.

If you want to talk about road safety, talk about tourists on bikes.

I am a menace on the road, I will be the first to admit it. It is not because I am speeding, it is not because I am driving drunk, but I am driving green.

I am not a scooter person, I never have been, and I may never be again after I leave the Rock.

But for now, and you Bermudians are going to have put up with this, I am on your roads.

And I am on your roads because tourists can come in, have a cursory few seconds of instruction and then be sent out in traffic.

I hit a parked car within a helmet toss of the rental company but I could have hit a child, a moving car, another bike or any combination of these on the packed rush hour roads of Hamilton.

My clumsiness and lack of coordination are clearly to blame but then again so is the system that allowed me out on the road when I am such an obvious danger.

To the uninitiated, these roads are a dangerous place. Let's ignore for now the late night dangers of others speeding and driving impaired and concentrate on the hazards that exist even without any lawlessness.

There are weaving bikes, pedestrians on the sidewalk-less roads, meandering routes and the distracting beauty of the Island for the newly arrived.

Combine this with an inherent lack of confidence, the unknown capabilities of the bike and general disorientation of new riders and you have a recipe for road rash and worse.

And have I even mentioned that Americans could well be looking the wrong way at roundabouts?

So it is no wonder that every time you venture out on the Island's roads you see some short-term visitor swerving or wobbling around Hamilton, Dockyard or Harbour Road, with only luck preventing them from joining the ever-expanding list of accident victims.

Motorbike crash experience-style conversations go on in offices all over Bermuda, with new arrivals regaling each other with the stories of their unfortunate accidents on the road.

I hit a parked car escaping with a similar number of scratches as the vehicle, while one colleague revealed her early spill left her in trousers for a couple of weeks due to the extensive bruising on her legs.

It is not a coincidence that we all have something to contribute to the above conversations and the fact that it is happening to everyone reveals some endemic problem.

I was lucky, my first crash was a minor one. But one day, and as much as I hope it never comes I know it will, I will find myself having to write a story about the tourist/new arrival/teenager killed on their virgin voyage.