After 15 years of being cut up by lorry drivers while cycling to work, it was hard to disguise my glee when climbing behind the wheel of a 60-tonne superlorry.

When the pauper gets only half an hour to be king of the road, there is no point in hanging about.

Five minutes into the test run, I had my foot to the floor and the behemoth was charging down the disused runway near Newark, Nottinghamshire.

The speed limiter kicked in at 56mph (90km/h), which was just as well because the runway was full of rain-filled potholes. The photographer wanted a close-up panning shot but leapt aside as we approached, showing scant confidence in the driver’s skills.

As the end of the runway loomed, my instructor told me to ease off the accelerator.

But this was to be a proper test drive, and Times readers needed to know whether the claims of a 114ft stopping distance at 50mph were true.

So I stamped on the brakes and we shuddered to a halt amid a spray of grit and water.

I had wondered whether the two trailers behind us might whip round and wipe out imaginary cars.

But with the brakes applying evenly to all eight axles – two more than on a conventional articulated lorry – we stopped remarkably quickly.

After that, the other tests seemed tame. To demonstrate the superlorry’s manoeuvrability, I had to weave in and out of cones positioned 14m apart and then turn 360 degrees without straying outside the space between two painted circles with diameters of 5.3m and 12.5m.

It was easy to stay inside the outer line, but in concentrating on doing that, I swung the rear trailer sharply into the centre. Any vehicle inside me on a roundabout would have been crushed and I might not have felt a thing.

My instructor assured me that this was simply down to my bad driving and that practice would ensure I kept within the limits.

To help with blind spots the super lorry has two cameras showing either side of the vehicle. The screens are on the sun visor over the drivers head.

They probably would show a suicidal cyclist trying to undertake as the lorry made a left turn. The trouble is, there is so much to think about anyway when turning and there might not be a spare second to glance upwards.

It was easy to see why lorry drivers sometimes fail to show consideration for other road users. There is a sense of invulnerability as you look down from your perch.

Other people treat you with respect, if only out of fear. The feeling of superiority must be heightened in a superlorry and drivers would benefit from special training to teach them humility. Perhaps they should have to pass their cycling proficiency test before climbing aboard.

Just as I was beginning to feel at one with my machine and having visions of pulling into a truck stop for a supersize fry-up, my instructor told me to try reversing. The trailers had an annoying tendency to go in the opposite direction to the one I intended. It took ten minutes, and a lot of shunting back and forth, to reach the desired spot.

At least I am now less likely to gesticulate impatiently when stopped on my bike by a Tesco lorry backing into a loading bay.

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