Category: Judgement

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39. KISS – ‘Keep it simple, Stupid’ because outcomes matter more than choreography

I’m a big fan of ‘Low Effort Biking’ and picking the least-technically difficult course of action to deliver a specific outcome. The reasons are simple — reduced workload, simplifed decision-making, fewer points at which a manoeuvre can break down. Yet, there’s always been a tendency to equate “advanced” riding with technically intricate techniques. The central argument here remains unchanged: what matters is the outcome, not the choreography. Simpler methods generally leave more margin, create fewer failure points, and are easier to recover from when something goes wrong — which, on real roads, it inevitably will.

 

KISS – ‘Keep it simple, Stupid’ because outcomes matter more than choreography

If there are two ways to achieve the same end, which is the best? If the end result is the same, then it’s probably to keep using the method that’s least technically difficult. It’s a general rule that the more complicated a procedure, there more there is to go wrong and thus the more likely things are to go wrong. And guess what? An accusation that can be thrown at advanced motorcycle riding is that we like to make things complicated. Just look at the way positioning gets described; not “left, right or centre of the lane”. Instead, it’s “position one, position two, position three”. There are plenty more examples of how rather than simplifying riding, we seem to want to make it more technically awkward. There is absolutely nothing wrong with learning new skills and mastering new techniques – after all, it’s what I’m in the business of developing for riders on my Survival Skills post-test training courses. But shouldn’t we be looking for ways to apply those skills in ways that make life a bit easier, not more tricky?

Let’s start with a simple task – turning the bike round so it faces the other way in the road. How can we achieve that? Most of us would immediately say “by making a U-turn”. But is that the SIMPLEST way? I once got an e-mail from a trainee who’d hospitalised himself just a few weeks after I’d shown him how to make a three-point turn. He’d mistaken his route, found himself facing a gate on a dead-end lane and tried to perform a U-turn. Realising it was going wrong, and that he was about to lose his balance, he stuck out a leg to try to stop the bike toppling. He saved the bike but at the expense of a leg fracture. Ouch.

That may be an extreme injury, but there are plenty of bikes sporting the scars of a ‘dropped it doing a U-turn’ incident.

So are there easier ways? For sure. I can do U-turns – I’ve demo’d enough over the years. But when I’m NOT demonstrating the manoeuvre, I rarely bother. I’ll ride around the block or find a petrol station or car park to reverse direction. I’ll even perform a three-point turn. Why? Because it keeps things simple, and removes some unnecessary risk because as we’ve just seen, U-turns DO go wrong.

I’m not saying that being able to turn the bike accurately in a tight space is not a necessary skill, because it is – the technique is needed for tight turns or junctions where there is restricted space, to move around parked vehicles, to negotiate mini-roundabouts and hairpin bends. But there’s little point in making awkward manoeuvres if we don’t NEED to.

Here’s another example. Have you watched someone riding at walking pace twenty metres back from a red traffic light? Have you ever wondered what possible advantage they are gaining from their maneouvre? I have. That rider is not going to make any ‘better progress’ away from the lights than I am, sat there stationary at the STOP line. Any arguments that it’s easier on the engine or saves fuel are nonsensical. And whilst I am sat stationary and nicely balanced with a foot on the floor, I have all the time in the world to watch the mirrors for vehicles coming up from behind. Balancing at slow speed, where’s our focus – on maintaining our balance, or on the mirrors?

Once again, this isn’t saying I’m advocating rushing up to the lights and banging the brakes on at the last second. I’ll roll off and slow down smoothly, in the hope that red will turn back to green allowing me to roll through without stopping. But the walking pace performance seems to have been taken to a point where it serves no useful function except to make life more complicated for the rider.

Some years ago, I was being given a demo ride by a police rider. His tyres were alongside the white line on left-handers and almost in the gutter on right-handers. After a bit he stopped and asked: “why aren’t you following my lines?” I gave him one reason – his sticky back tyre was picking up stone chips and flinging them at me, so I was riding inside his lines to stay clear of the pebble-dashing treatment. But the real reason was that I simply didn’t need to. We weren’t riding at such as speed that we needed to widen the line to stretch out our stopping distance by extending “the distance we could see to be clear”, even if moving another half-metre left or right would have given me a much better view. Instead, it becomes an exercise in maintaining a very precise path – get it wrong and we’re either over the centre line or off the tarmac.

The general technique of using the width of the lane makes sense. But taking it to extremes doesn’t.

And there’s one area where keeping things as simple and as fool-proof as possibile really should get more airtime. And that’s when overtaking. In terms of risk – the chance of something going wrong multiplied by the impact on us when it does – overtaking is almost certainly the most dangerous manoeuvre we perform on a motorcycle. But we treat overtaking as a ‘skill’, and we even try to demonstrate how ‘skillful’ our overtakes are. I once watched another rider coming up behind me on a busy road. He performed a whole series of overtakes, leapfrogging past HGV after HGV. Each time, he waited for a gap in the oncoming traffic and moved forward one truck. Technically proficient, indeed. After ten minutes of this, he was a couple of HGVs ahead of me.

Then we stopped at a red light, and as the queue formed, I filtered back past him to the front of the queue. Which manoeuvre was easier? Who took less risk? OK, the lights may not have changed but each pass put him a couple of seconds further ahead. Even if I’d trailed him into the next town I’d have been just a couple of minutes behind. If there’s one thing I learned back in my courier days, all overtakes are risky, and complex overtakes have a habit of going wrong. ‘Just because we can’ is not a justification for overtaking. I’ll take the easier option. And if an easier option doesn’t appear? Well, I’m not in that much of a rush.

I’ll conclude with two other observations.

Firstly, the more technically complex our riding, the more we have to focus on what we’re doing. And that’s tiring. I still spend long days in the saddle and reducing stress and staying as fresh as possible has major safety benefits because a knackered rider is a rider at risk. Stopped at a red light, I get a few moments to move around and stretch muscles that haven’t moved for a while, and can mentally switch off (rear observation excepted). Overtaking is physically and mentally tiring, above and beyond any progress benefits that may accrue, so seeking out the low effort overtakes is entirely beneficial.

Secondly, whilst there’s absolutely nothing wrong with gaining new and improved skills and knowledge, that doesn’t mean we have to exploit them. In fact, the deeper we can operate within our own skills ‘comfort zone’, the more margin for adjustment we have. It doesn’t matter whether it’s confidence at outright lean angle, our braking technique or the ability to judge the speed and distance of an oncoming car to a nicety. The more we push towards those limits, the less we have in hand in case things go wrong. And remember, the Survival Skills approach to advanced motorcycle riding is always to remember that things CAN go wrong.

So how do we manage a three-point turn on a bike when we don’t have reverse?

Quite simple. Have a good look round and start your turn just like you were about to perform a U-turn but stop with the front wheel in the centre of the road. Here’s the clever bit. Most roads are cambered, so gravity substitutes for reverse, making it easy to paddle backwards – just remember to turn the front wheel the other way. Back at the kerb, you’re probably angled where you want to go next, so one final check and you’re away. If the road’s really narrow, make it a five point turn. ‘Less-skilled’? Maybe, if our definition of skill is making life difficult for ourselves.

And there’s a safety benefit. When performing a U-turn a motorcycle cannot block the road in the same way that a car performing a three-point turn will. I’ve had cars cut past my learners in mid U-turn just because they can. If it was scary for me, it must have been heart-stopping for the trainees. Now, if you’re performing a three-point turn, as soon as you stop, half the road is free for any impatient driver to pass.

So my take on riding is that eliminating complex techniques makes life easier. Ask yourself – are you doing something because you need to? Or because it’s nice? Remember KISS – Keep it simple, Stupid.

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32. When the Two Second Rule is not enough

Were I to start this article again (and I may at some point do that), the following observations would call for some revision:

  1. Two Second Rule: The explanation is accurate as a minimum safe distance, but it’s worth noting explicitly that it assumes a fully alert rider on a dry surface, nor does it scale well at speeds over 45 mph – that needs to be crystal-clear.

  2. Stopping distance calculations: The math is correct but actual deceleration is rarely as high as 0.9G for most street riders. 0.6–0.7G is more realistic, as I noted later. Also, poor surface conditions can reduce effective deceleration to 0.3–0.5G and whilst modern ABS helps a rider make the most of available grip, they cannot compensate for poor spacing or delayed reaction, or – and this is crucial – a rider who is not confident / competent to engage the ABS in an emergency.

  3. Reaction times: Updating from 0.5–1 second to 0.7–1.5 seconds for typical riders (and 2–3 seconds for surprise events) is consistent with modern human factors research.

  4. Motorcycle vs. car braking: while a sportbike may match braking distances achieved by cars, that’s under ideal conditions and the skill required to consistently achieve this is significant, and errors are common in real-world scenarios.

A very useful comment was added to a previous version of this particular item; “Whilst the ‘dead stop in the road’ scenario would initially seem to be somewhat rare, in actuality it is very common. Of course, what I am referring to the moment a vehicle turns across our path. I realize that the two-second rule has no bearing on the above situations. Just thought I’d point out that one shouldn’t get so involved with counting seconds that they don’t see the car about to transform itself into that dreaded ‘brick wall'”.

When the Two Second Rule is not enough

The original version of this particular article almost dates to the earliest days of the internet, because I wrote it following a discussion on the Go Ride Forum on CompuServe – that should serve to date it accurately enough. But well over twenty years later, whenever I’m out driving a car, running training courses or simply watching other riders, one recurring error is following the vehicle ahead far too close. And whilst motorcyclists worry about being tailgated themselves, a surprising number of collisions happen when it’s the rider running into the back of the vehicle ahead. It seems some rider errors never change.

The Highway Code says sensibly enough that we “should ride at a speed that allows us to stop in the distance we can see to be clear, and at a distance that will allow us to stop if the vehicle in front stops suddenly”. It then goes onto quote some following distances and braking distances.

The trouble is that it doesn’t really matter whether those distances are in feet, metres or car lengths, our biggest problem is trying to visualise these distances. It’s tough to think just how far 75 feet or 23 metres or 6 car lengths at a standstill, let alone on the move at 30 mph. This is clear when performing demonstration emergency stops. I’ll often get the trainee to make where they THINK I’ll stop if I hit the brakes at 30 mph. That usually puts them on the back foot, and it’s rare to find anyone who moves confidently to mark their chosen spot.

Not uncommonly, I have to remind them of the 23 metre stopping distance. And then they often stand about half that distance away.

And that may be a clue as to why riders follow too close on the road. If we can’t judge a short distance like 23 metres to within 50% at a standstill, what chance to they have on the road? (The way I judge it is that it’s just over the length of a cricket pitch.

But there’s a solution, also in the Highway Code. It’s the Two Second Rule. We watch the vehicle in front as it passes a fixed object (a lamppost, a tree, a shadow or even a seam in the road) and start talking: “only a fool breaks the Two Second Rule”. In theory, that takes about two seconds to say, so if we have passed this point before we’ve finished talking, we’re too close. If we get it all out without gabbling, we’re far enough back. And in the wet, we double the Two Second Rule to four seconds.

So does it work? Whilst it’s likely to be adequate around town, there’s also some bad news that neither the Highway Code nor any of the other manuals or riding tips has made clear.

the Two Second Rule is not a target – it’s a MINIMUM safe distance and should be extended at all times whenever traffic conditions allow

the stopping distances are based on a rider braking AS SOON AS the vehicle ahead slows – even an alert rider can be caught by SURPRISE! and that is well-known to delay our response

stopping distance does not increase in a straight line with speed – if we double our speed, we QUADRUPLE stopping distance

It’s the last point I want to focus on because it means there is a cross-over point beyond which we cannot stop even with a two second gap. My old buddy Steve Kelly got his trusty calculator out and we fed some data in. We travel 13 metres or 44 feet each sec at 30mph. Stopping (reaction and braking) distance at 30mph is quoted in the Highway Code as 23 metres or 75 feet. A modern motorcycle on decent tyres can brake much harder than the Highway Code allows. So we made two initial assumptions:

  1. an alert rider can react in around 0.5 second

  2. braking hard, a rider can achieve around 0.9G of braking force (more on that in a moment)

And we ignored wind resistance, poor road surfaces and all rolling friction. So here are the braking figures:

At 15mph

In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 44.0ft
Your stopping and reaction distance is 19.4ft
Your margin for error is 24.6ft
Your impact speed is n/a

At 30 mph

In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 88.0ft
Your stopping and reaction distance is 55.4ft
Your margin for error is 32.6ft
Your impact speed is n/a

At 45 mph

In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 132.0ft
Your stopping and reaction distance is 108.0ft
Your margin for error is 23.8ft
Your impact speed is n/a

At 60 mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 176ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 178ft

  • Your margin for error is -2.0ft

  • Your impact speed is 0.6mph

At 75mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 220ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 264ft

  • Your margin for error is -43.9ft

  • Your impact speed is 12.5mph

At 90mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 264ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 367ft

  • Your margin for error is -103ft

  • Your impact speed is 25.2mph

At 105mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 308ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 486ft

  • Your margin for error is -178ft

  • Your impact speed is 38.5mph

I think you can see what is happening – at 60mph, maintaining a 2 second gap, you will crash at walking pace even if you are wide awake and brake as quickly as possible. At 90 (not an unusual motorway speed, you will have a serious accident with a big impact. (And at 150mph, you would hit the brickwall at a frightening and almost certainly fatal 80.2mph!)

What if we’re caught by SURPRISE! and our reactions are a bit slow? If we double the reaction time to a not-unlikely one second (more on that in a moment too), here are the figures.

At 15mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 44.0ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 30.4ft

  • Your margin for error is 13.6ft

  • Your impact speed is n/a

At 30 mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 88.0ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 77.4ft

  • Your margin for error is 10.6ft

  • Your impact speed is n/a

At 45 mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 132.0ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 141.0ft

  • Your margin for error is -9.2ft

  • Your impact speed is 2.9mph

At 60 mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 176ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 222ft

  • Your margin for error is -45.7ft

  • Your impact speed is 12.4mph

At 75mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 220ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 319ft

  • Your margin for error is -98.9ft

  • Your impact speed is 23.3mph

At 90mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 264ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 367ft

  • Your margin for error is -169ft

  • Your impact speed is 35.1mph

At 105mph

  • In 2 seconds at constant speed you will travel 308ft

  • Your stopping and reaction distance is 563ft

  • Your margin for error is -255ft

  • Your impact speed is 47.6mph

The important point is that now the crossover point is now 45mph.

Not surprisingly some objections were raised during discussions.

“Rider over-reaction to a perceived emergency is a greater hazard in many situations than the actual emergency itself”. I can’t argue with this having done that myself and fallen off on several occasions, and it’s why ABS is compulsory on new bikes in the EU.

“It is well known that a modern motorcycle with good tyres can stop from 60 mph in under 110 feet; this is comparable to only a few automobiles such as Porsche, Corvette, Ferrari, etc. In the vast majority of situations where maximum braking is needed, the bike will be able to come to an absolute stop, well before the standard car or truck.” A biking myth. It may just possibly have been true in the past, but with four wheels on the ground and ABS to boot (literally), I’m far from convinced that even a well-handled bike will out-stop a car. Few riders practice emergency stops and even with ABS too, braking a motorcycle at the absolute limit requires a degree of skill and machine control that a car driver simply doesn’t need.

All this, of course, assumes good traction. Our friend stated: “When the surface is less than optimal, it affects other vehicles as well. If the rider is a capable bike-handler, he/she should still be able to outbrake and/or steer past a standard car or truck, as the mass of the vehicle determines its kinetic energy when speed is equal”.

“I don’t think the Two Second Rule results in such dire consequences as the calculations imply. One is assuming a fixed object towards which one is braking. In reality, emergency braking is initiated in response to a vehicle ahead, also braking. That vehicle must decelerate from its velocity just as you do, so the Two Second Rule simply provides adequate reaction time to initiate your braking in response to the emergency ahead.” It’s another fine theory that as speeds rise and traffic spreads out, we can see and react to vehicles braking further ahead, but theory isn’t always right. I can think of three incidents in front of me:

  1. on a motorway, the car ahead of me drifted to the right, dipped its right front wheel in the gravel drain at the edge of the outside lane and was swung straight into the Armco barrier in the centre of the motorway. It immediately rolled over a couple of times and slid to a halt on the roof in front of me. That stopped pretty quick

  2. my brother was driving with me in the passenger seat when the car in front of us colliding head-on with a vehicle coming the opposite way that had drifted into our lane. That blocked the road ahead as the cars both stopped almost instantly.

  3. I was following a car when its offside suspension collapsed, and it spun 180 degrees and stopped dead in the road facing me

THESE are the situations the Two Second Rule is designed to rescue us from.

And here’s something else to think about. A study of emergency braking revealed that instead of our assumed 0.9G of deceleration, a typical rider is more likely to generate 0.6G. I’ve haven’t repeated the calculations but I’m sure you realise that wil add SIGNIFICANTLY to all the stopping distances.

We also originally banked on a reaction time of an alert rider of 0.5 of a second and double that for a rider caught by surprise. In fact, 0.5s is right at the top limit for reaction time. A more typical figure is around 0.7 sec for an alert driver. But even our 1s reaction time turns out to be much to optimistic in a real emergency. When we’re taken by SURPRISE! our reaction time can become even longer. Two, even three seconds is common. It’s almost certainly this delayed response that explains why many urban riders don’t avoid junction collisions even when the accident investigation says they should. It wasn’t that they were speeding (the more usual conclusion) but that they simply failed to react to the emergency because they were taken by SURPRISE!

As I’ve said before when discussing my advanced motorcycle training courses, that brings me to the need to PLAN for things to GO WRONG. We must be pragmatic if we are to have genuine Survival Skills.

So if you’ve religiously adhered to the Two Second Rule till now, you may be a bit concerned to find it doesn’t work as we go faster. Even though I knew stopping distances quadruple as speed doubles, I was a bit startled to discover the crossover point was so low. As Steve said: “I’ll think about this a lot more when I’m next travelling along a motorway”.

Thanks to Steve Kelly for doing the mathematics.

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30. The Limit (or Vanishing) Point – is it enough?

Years after I wrote this, and even now after I updated it, I still think that the belief that the Limit Point is of prime importance when setting our speed in corners is massively overstated. What I would add now is that there is a distinction between the static Limit Point — where road edges converge at any particular instant — and the dynamic Limit Point — how is our sense of how this point is moving back and forth as our bike moves along the road. And — in my opinion at least — it should never be the sole determinant of speed into a corner. It’s often hard to detect road irregularities on fast sweeping bends until we’re much closer, the gaps in hedges where other vehicles may appear frequently only ‘uncloak’ well after the Limit Point is reached, and there’s no guarantee that any hazard that reveals itself via the forward movement of the Limit Point is actually stationary — if it’s moving towards us, we could easily run out of braking distance. To me, these are blindly obvious limitations. Yet decades after I first wrote about them, they are rarely covered in any discussion of the Limit Point. Treat is as one tool among many; a guide to road direction and potential speed adjustments, rather than a definitive target for acceleration, braking or — most crucially of all — stopping! For riders of all levels, it’s integrating “what we can see” with “what we can’t see” and being ready to deal with the latter, by thinking well beyond the Limit Point that is paramount to safe cornering.

The Limit (or Vanishing) Point – is it enough?

As soon as we take a look at post-test motorcycle training, one of the concepts we’re likely to come across is something called the Limit Point or the Vanishing Point (or Convergence Point or Visual Point – call it what you like, it’s the same thing). It gets particular focus in UK-based post-test training because it appears in the police handbook ‘Motorcycle Roadcraft’. And because the police manual discusses it, it’s a feature of the IAM’s own RoadSmart ‘Advanced Rider Course’ and in the training delivered by RoSPA instructors and virtually anyone else who bases their training on UK police practice. Not surprisingly, it also regularly pops up on advanced riding videos and guides in magazines and on the internet. It’s also been adopted abroad. So just how useful is it? And just how do we set our speed for a bend? Is it ONLY based on ‘limit point analysis’?

Because the Limit Point has been explained so many times and done to a crispy turn on the internet, I left it the topic alone for many years – why add another article to an already-sizeable pile that say much the same?

So what changed my mind?

Have a read of this. It’s a post made on the bike forum I used to moderate by another advanced instructor with impressive ex-police credentials:

“The main thing you have to learn about safe riding is the visual point or vanishing point. I teach this to clients all the time. Some tell me in detail how or what they look at at and when I take them out on the road it seems no one understands it too well. All police riding is based on this because if you know how to use it, it gives you everything you want. Position on the road, speed on the approach to any bend, how fast you can enter the bend, how much power to apply to the throttle, where to move the bike from the corner for the next position. In my experience it is not the technique that is hard but the believing what you see and having confidence to use it anywhere in the world. It is very exciting once you know how it works.”

The writer continued by explaining the ‘stop in the distance we can see to be clear’ rule, and explained that as the limit point is as far as we can see, that’s where we need to be able to stop.

“Everything you want”?

Really? Not in my book it doesn’t.

Firstly, it’s assuming that any obstacle in our lane revealed by the receding Limit Point will be stationary. Of course there’s no guarantee that’s the case as any biker who has ever misjudged an overtake approaching a corner and gone into it on the wrong side of the road will know. The narrower the road and the tighter the corner, the more likely we are to encounter a vehicle crossing into our lane, and in the worst case, driving towards us in it. It’s important that we add the extra words that are actually clearly stated within ‘Roadcraft’ – and that is that we must actually be able to “stop WELL WITHIN in the distance we can EXPECT TO REMAIN clear”. That’s a significant difference.

Secondly – and this is not mentioned explicitly in ‘Roadcraft’ – there’s always the possibility of an oncoming car turning across our path. Now, if we’re rounding a left-hander, we’ll see that car appear a few moments before we can see the junction it’s aiming for on the inside of the corner – our line of sight always unveils the outside of the bend before we see the corresponding point on the inside of the corner. What that should tell us is that we won’t know if there’s an emerging car on the inside of the bend, even though our formal Limit Point is already beyond it. The reverse applies on a right-hander. We’ll see the junction to the inside of the bend, but the oncoming vehicle about to cross our path into it will be out of sight. Just as ‘Roadcraft’ says – without explaining why – we MUST be able to stop well before we reach the Limit Point.

Here’s a third issue that isn’t mentioned either. Let me introduce you to what are sometimes called ‘Surprise Horizons’. A Surprise Horizon is any point which lies between us and the Limit Point, from which another vehicle (or cyclist, pedestrian or even an animal) MIGHT EMERGE and BLOCK OUR PATH. And that means we actually need to do is be able to STOP at that point, NOT at the Limit Point. And that is a very different concept. The term Surprise Horizon comes from a book called ‘Mind Driving’ by Stephen Haley, a car trainer.
Even though we might have a clear view of the Limit Point itself, a Surprise Horizon can lurk unseen in any blind area. Even on a near-straight road, a slight kink in the hedge, the narrow gap between two buildings, an opening between parked cars, or a blind crest all have the potential to conceal anything from a tractor tugging a trailer to a sheep.

So what’s my conclusion? That used sensibly it works well with other observation links but that it should be considered just one tool in your box of tricks to read corners, not the “be all and end all” of your cornering technique.

Anyway, I posted something to this effect on the forum and two wags read it and replied…

“So isn’t the “Vanishing point” simply the farthest you can see down the road? Or is that too simple?”

“Way, Way too simple. This is technical stuff we’re talking about here. The vanishing point is the point where the left and right verges appear to converge, or in other words, the farthest you can see down the road. Does that make it clear?”

I had to laugh… sometimes a simple, useful technique that should be obvious and straightforward can be elevated to semi-mystical status!

The Surprise Horizon concept is one that really should be added to ‘Roadcraft’ and to any explanation of how to apply the Limit point concept to judge speed. If we simply see the road as guaranteed to stay empty between ourselves and the Limit Point, we really are risking a nasty SURPRISE! And remember…

No Surprise? No Accident!

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28. “Don’t search for safety, identify risky — then avoid it”

I’ve actually retitled this particular article since it reinforces the central idea — that riders should stop chasing an abstract notion of “safety” and instead understand “risk in context” — because It reinforces personal responsibility and judgement, aligns with how riders actually make decisions — moment by moment, under imperfect information, and most importantly it avoids the false promise implied by “safety”. Safety is defined as absence of risk and there’s no such thing on the road. Understanding risk, rather than searching for an ill-defined notion of “safety”, remains the key to surviving real-world riding.

“Don’t search for safety, identify risky — then avoid it”

When delivering my Survival Skills advanced motorcycle riding courses, one of the concepts I ensure that is covered in depth is risk, and its relationship to safety. Why focus on risk when it’s so much more usual to hear motorcycle training and road safety experts talk about ‘safety’? There’s a good reason for this. It’s because safety is defined as the ‘absence of risk’. So given that it is impossible to ride without risk, it’s only by understanding risk that we can begin to appreciate whether particular manoeuvres are actually relatively low or relatively high risk. Once we know that, then it’s possible to begin to manage risk and thus attempt to make our riding as safe as possible.

So let’s start by define what we mean by ‘risk’ a bit more clearly? We can say something like:

‘Risk = the chance something might happen X the impact on us when it happens’

It may be a simple explanation but it makes it easier to understand how a hazard might affect us. For example, you’d probably agree that most metal access covers are potentially slippery. But does that mean they ALWAYS pose a risk?

Follow some riders and you’d be forgiven for thinking they’d been treated with teflon as they weave left and right to avoid them in the dry, but if the metal surface is relatively small and flush with the surface, and we are neither cornering, braking or accelerating, then what’s the problem? We can ride over them with no fear of a loss of grip, and we can focus on other issues, such as taking a line that avoids getting close to oncoming vehicles. Even when wet, a small access cover is unlikely to result in anything more serious than a slight twitch even when leaned over. Running over it might be a better decision than shaving past an HGV coming the other way. But what if the metal plate is big? What if it’s just where we’re planning to hit the brakes, to avoid an emerging car? What if we’re carrying serious lean through a corner? And it’s wet too? Now we have a more serious problem.

What I’m getting at is we need to anticipate whether the hazard poses a threat in the context in which we are about to meet it.

One useful place to develop an understanding of risk is to examine the ‘killed and seriously injured’ statistics. If you do that, you’ll discover there are three common crashes:

  • at junctions

  • on corners

  • during overtakes

Then we can drill down further to find out more about the risks of each location.

For example, if we look at crashes at or near junctions involving motorcycles, we find that in an URBAN environment most collisions happen when another vehicle pulls out from a side road, and turns across the motorcycle’s path. Although these incidents are very common (so the risk of a COLLISION is high), the fatality rate is low UNLESS the rider is exceeding the speed limit – then the fatality rate sky-rockets.

But there’s a second collision to consider – when an oncoming vehicle turns right turns across the rider’s path. The risk OF the collision is low (there aren’t very many) but the risk FROM the crash is high (it’s a much bigger impact and far more likely to be fatal).

But once out of town, where speeds are higher, both types of collision are likely to have serious consequences, simply because the speeds are higher.

And in the same way we can find other high-risk activities. If we crash on a corner, we’re more likely to survive if we fall off on a right-hander (in the UK), but on a left-hander we cross the centre line and the resulting collision is often fatal. Overtaking is almost certainly the most dangerous of all biking activities, because there is so much that can go wrong. Not too many years ago, a highly qualified motorcycle instructor told me that “done right, overtaking is perfectly safe”. Hopefully, you read that and asked yourself “is that really true?”. The answer, of course, is that however well-planned and executed, NO overtake can ever be ‘perfectly safe’. We can try to manage the risks as best we can, but there is one element in an overtake over which we have no control whatsoever…

…and that’s the other humans in the mix. We can be trying to do everything ‘right’ and the unpredictable actions of another human can still put us at risk.

So to sum up… to ASSESS risk, we must recognise the potential for any particular activity to go wrong. To MANAGE risk, we have to know our options, and whether we have alternatives open to us. In the case of an overtake, I could simply not attempt it – that would manage the risk pretty effectively. And when deciding whether or not I need to ride over that manhole cover mid-corner, there’s another solution – I could SLOW DOWN! It’s easier to recover from a slide when we’re more upright.

It’s amazing how long it takes riders to actually remember that slowing down is nearly always an effective risk management option.

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27. Cornering Problems 4 – Set up the brakes to stay out of corner trouble

Written originally before the widespread adoption of ABS and the current enthusiasm for trail braking, this piece has arguably become more relevant rather than less. Modern braking systems reduce the consequences of error, but they do not eliminate the need for judgement, preparation, or margin. In fact, on increasingly unpredictable road surfaces, relying on late or reactive braking strategies leaves the rider more exposed, not less. “In too fast” remains a dominant failure mode and has turned up in multiple recent crash studies, UK DfT KSI summaries, and police collision reconstructions. The bike is usually capable but the rider’s speed management is the failure point. Nothing in rider aids has meaningfully changed that. It’s still a knowledge gap vs skills gap issue. Braking studies have shown that most riders don’t think to brake for corners until too late.

Unfortunately, the false binary “good riders don’t brake” versus “bad riders use brakes” thinking is still present, even if it far less common than when I penned this piece. Brake preloading as an anti-surprise strategy aligns extremely closely with modern human-factors research on startle response and task switching. The principles discussed here are not about rejecting modern technology, but about using it as a safety net rather than a primary plan — and about preventing the ‘in too fast’ error before electronics are ever asked to intervene.

Cornering Problems 4 – Set up the brakes to stay out of corner trouble

Even in the years that I’ve been an advanced rider coach is the rider, I’ve seen a lot of change to motorcycle design and the technology that comes with them, and the UK’s training and testing regime has changed a lot too. Now, when accident studies look at crashes result from the ‘in too fast’ error, it’s nearly always the case that the BIKE could have made the corner. But in my time in training cornering crashes are much the same as they ever were. It’s not even a blink of the eye in terms of human evolution, and so it’s not surprising the rider always was and remains the weak link. But we can do better if we learn the appropriate skills. So given our propensity to find our way into trouble in bends, why aren’t we taught how to avoid one of the most common cornering crashes; running into a corner too hot? If getting the bike sorted for a bend really is as simple as getting back on the throttle before we try to steer, why do riders get themselves into such a muddle on corners by making the ‘in too fast’ error? Here are two answers.

The first involves the lack of time spent working on corners on basic training. As the test itself is conducted mostly on urban roads with a sprinkling of dual carriageway work, it’s unlikely that manys rider on the bike test will have to ride more than a mile or so along a reasonably twisty road. Not surprisingly, basic trainers tend to focus on the kind of roads the test will be conducted on, and whilst many will do some training on the twisties, it’s rarely ever in much depth. Even the technique of counter-steering is not guaranteed to be covered.

In my experience as a rider coach, many ‘cornering’ issues turn out to be a lack of confidence with the brakes. Why? Well, braking ahead of a bend is rarely taught on basic training for the reasons mentioned above, and how to break it’s largely left to the trainee to work out for themselves. Not having been taught how to brake before a corner, few riders ever practice braking upright before a bend. It’s a double-whammy.

But here’s a weird thing. We ALL know modern bikes can brake very hard in a straight line, most of us because our basic trainer spent hours teaching emergency stop technique. But for some reason, we never seem to appreciate that it’s the same basic ‘front first, rear second, progressively harder squeeze of the front’ approach that works wherever we need it – avoiding collisions, braking for red traffic lights or on the approach a roundabout…

…and approaching corners.

So for most riders – there are exceptions – it’s not a SKILLS gap, it’s actually a KNOWLEDGE gap perhaps because it was never made explicitly clear – no-one told them they can brake hard ahead of a corner.

But I also believe we also have problems at post-test level because riders are still being discouraged from braking for corners. Have you ever heard it said that “a good rider shouldn’t need to touch the brakes”? I have, and much too often for my liking.

I first read it back in my courier days, in articles written about the IAM test. It didn’t make a great deal of sense to me then, but when I put myself into the IAM’s hands towards the back end of my sixteen year stint as a courier, I was exposed to the thinking first-hand. Out with my observer on one of my favourite cross-country routes in Kent, it wasn’t long before I was pulled up. I was told “you are braking on the approach to corners”. Yes, I knew that so a “what’s wrong with that” debate followed. To keep it short, I was told that if I was “judging corners correctly”, I wouldn’t need to use the brakes – I could do all my deceleration with a closed throttle and judicious use of the gears. As I already knew, this was explained as ‘acceleration sense’.

The use of gears as a substitute for brakes is a topic for another day, but I turned the question-and-answer game around and got him to explain why he’d thought I wasn’t judging the corners simply because he’d seen me braking. I asked if I had gone into any of the corners with the brakes still being applied, off-line or at an inappropriate speed. He had to admit the answer to all these questions was “no, you didn’t”.

So I asked how it was, that if I wasn’t making these errors, that I was reading the road incorrectly? The answer was:

“Because you had to brake on the approach to a bend.”

You should be able to see that’s a circular argument, and totally unsupported by any logical thinking. It’s simply a repetition of a mantra: ‘acceleration sense good, brakes bad’.

The proper debate should have been about the proper timing and the relative effectiveness of the two techniques – acceleration sense or positive braking – at getting the speed sorted out in such as way as to prevent the ‘in too fast’ error.

So let’s do that by looking at the ‘in too fast’ problem. In the ideal world of advanced riding, we’d assess every stretch of road correctly. We’d read each bend perfectly. And we’d never make the ‘in too fast’ mistake.

Back in the real world, I am happy to admit that I do cock up. I am not a perfect rider, and every once in a while I do discover myself arriving too fast for the next corner. And here’s a truth none of us should ever forget. If we DO make a mistake and end up arriving too fast for the bend, we’ll be lucky if we get away with a horrible line round the corner. If we’re not so lucky, then the likelihood is we’ll run wide. On a right-hander, that’s likely to be off the road. Been there, done that. And if we happen to run wide on a left-hander, that takes us into the oncoming lane. Been there, done that too. And I don’t want to repeat it because it’s pure chance if we get away with it. The Grim Reaper could easily be driving a Scania coming the other way. Running wide on a left-hander is one of the killer crashes on UK rural roads.

So I prepare to deal with the ‘in too fast’ mistake rather than make an assumption that I got it right. And the easiest way to do this on the the approach to a bend is to roll off the throttle AND apply the brakes lightly rather than rely on engine braking alone.

Why? Quite simple. As soon as the throttle is shut, that’s the limit to our deceleration. There’s nothing left unless we start forcing the bike down through the gears.

By contrast, braking lightly at the same time as decelerating ‘sets up’ the brakes ready to use them. We can apply anything from a feather touch which barely slows the bike any more than engine braking alone, right up to a full-on emergency stop.

At this point, the critics usually pop up.

“Ah, but if you’d read the road ahead correctly you wouldn’t need to brake.” Well, most corners in the UK are blind as we enter them, and whilst I’m pretty good at asking “what if…” and preparing just in case, I’m not prescient and what I expect to happen and what actually appears isn’t always the same. I’d rather be prepared for getting it wrong than patting myself on the back for getting it right.

“But you can also brake even if you’re using acceleration sense.” Absolutely we can. But if we’re shutting the throttle with our fingers on the twist grip, we have to disengage them and reach over to the brake lever, then we have to start squeezing progressively. If we are ALREADY braking lightly, we have eliminated the delay and we can go straight into positive braking. By removing this delay, we can either stop in a shorter distance or we can brake less hard than a rider who’s had to switch from decelerating using the engine to using the brakes.

“But you’re more likely to grab the front brake if you’re dangling your fingers over it.” This one actually makes some sense but it’s a misunderstanding of just why we’re using the ‘setting up’ technique. As you’ll know from my work on ‘No Surprise? No Accident!’ the trigger for the panic reactions that cause many motorcycle crashes is the SURPRISE! that results when we’re caught out by a situation developing in a way we didn’t expect. Keeping fingers off the front brake is no guarantee we won’t give it a huge handful as soon as we panic. By contrast, the action of switching from engine braking alone to the ‘set up’ approach which pre-loads the brakes with light pressure indicates we’ve already switched to a mindset where we are anticipating we might have to brake harder. And that means we’re far less likely to suffer SURPRISE! when the bend doesn’t do what we hope.

“OK, but you’ll slow down too much.” Remember, we’re only applying a feather-touch to the brakes on the approach to the corner. That’s not going to slow us dramatically – in fact, we probably won’t be any slower into the corner because we know we can lose speed rapidly if we need to. And if nothing reveals itself? Then we simply release the brakes and roll back on the throttle to get the bike balanced before we turn in to the corner itself. And in any case, it’s much easier to regain speed in a corner if we rolled in a bit too slow than it is to shed speed mid-corner if we ran in too hot.

And once again, I’m not the only one advocating this technique. The ‘setting up’ technique is routinely taught on the approach to unpredictable hazards in Australia.

Hopefully I’ve now persuaded you the ‘setting up’ approach to a corner has some genuine benefits and no real drawbacks. This isn’t about ‘riding perfection’ but all about being pragmatic. If it can go wrong, it WILL go wrong sooner or later – that’s the assumption at the foundation of Survival Skills advanced motorcycle riding courses. So if in ANY doubt, SET UP the brakes.

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24. Trusting to Luck, Awareness of Hazards, and Risk Assessment and Risk Management

This was a very early post, written before I’d fully investigated concepts like the ladder of learning and later work on the concept of insight training, and risk homeostasis allows us to sharpen it and correct a few early assumptions. My central argument — that riders mistake statistical survival for skill-based safety — is entirely consistent with modern safety psychology. In fact, it aligns very closely with the phenomena known as:

:: Normalisation of deviance
:: Outcome bias
:: Risk compensation / risk homeostasis

The fact that familiarity dulls risk perception is now well established in behavioural science. Repeated exposure without consequence reduces perceived risk even when objective risk is unchanged. My observation that “they stop planning ahead and trust to luck again” is arguably the most important line in the article, and modern thinking has reinforced it rather than undermined it. The ‘six levels’ I mapped out fit well with models I discovered later:

Levels 1–3 → unconscious incompetence / conscious incompetence
Level 4 → rule-based competence
Levels 5–6 → insight-based, anticipatory control

Since this was first written, our understanding of why riders fail to manage risk effectively has moved on. It is now clearer that the problem is not simply a loss of skill, but a shift in thinking. Riders do not consciously decide to take more risk; instead, familiarity quietly reshapes their expectations. When nothing goes wrong, we unconsciously downgrade hazards from “threat” to “routine”, and begin to interpret safe outcomes as evidence of our own competence rather than statistical good fortune. This is closely related to what psychologists call risk compensation: improvements in skill or experience are often “spent” on riding faster, overtaking more often, or accepting smaller margins, leaving overall risk unchanged. The critical difference between riders who continue to progress and those who stagnate is not technical ability, but whether they maintain a habit of questioning their assumptions — actively challenging the belief that because something has always worked before, it will continue to do so next time.

Trusting to Luck, Awareness of Hazards, and Risk Assessment and Risk Management

Risk is a funny concept. It’s always there in our lives, whatever we do, to a greater or lesser extent. The odd thing is that whilst we are sometimes very aware of risk, at other times we tend to forget all about it. Witness the number of people who step backwards off cliffs taking selfies. We also have a skewed perception of what is actually dangerous and what isn’t. Take flying as an example. Compared with driving, which is far more likely to kill us, flying is statistically safer. But most people don’t fly very often, so never really get used to it and we’re also in someone else’s hands and the situation is almost totally out of our control. So how does risk play a part in our riding decisions? What skews our concept of risk?

More than anything else, what interferes with accurate risk assessment is familiarity. The more often we encounter a risk, yet nothing goes wrong, the less we see it AS a risk. If we drive or ride on a regular basis, in situations we are familiar with, we generate such a level of familiarity and a sensation of ‘ordinariness’, we begin to lose awareness of the risks. Worse, we begin to believe we are in control of the risks.

But is that actually the fact? We should be aware of another factor that could be keeping us safe.

And that’s statistics. Crashing badly is rare event.

What do I mean? You’ll probably have heard that the risk of being killed on a motorcycle or scooter is around 30 to 40 times higher than if we’re in a car. And you probably know there are (very approximately) around 350 fatal motorcycle crashes in the UK each year, and that serious injuries (equally approximately) total around 3500.

But those numbers need context.

There are somewhere between 1 and 2 million active motorcyclists who ride several billion miles each year.

So for you and me, when we look at motorcycling on an individual basis, the chance of having a fatal accident in any one year is tiny. The UK is one of the safest places on earth to ride a motorcycle.

I originally wrote this article under the misapprehension – like most people in the advanced riding community, and in road safety generally – that it is good skills that keep us safe. I wrote about how I thought road users including motorcyclists go through a sequence of developmental stages of hazard perception, risk awareness and risk management:

Level 1) we aren’t even aware danger exists
Level 2) we see a hazard but don’t understand how it poses a risk
Level 3) we see a hazard, recognise it poses a risk but don’t know how to deal with it
Level 4) we see a hazard, recognise it poses a risk, and react by taking appropriate avoiding action
Level 5) we see a hazard, recognise it poses a risk, and respond by proactively reducing the risk
Level 6) we anticipate a hazard, and act to eliminate the risk before it can develop

I described those levels in terms of how a rider might respond in the most common collision scenario – the SMIDSY crash involving a driver emerging from a junction on the left.

1) we aren’t even aware danger exists
How would a rider at this level of development rider respond if a car started to emerge from the side turning? Simple answer – having failed to recognise the scenario as a hazard, the rider will be caught completely by SURPRISE! by the emerging car. There will be no planned response to the hazard. The outcome is entirely in the lap of the gods.

2) we see a hazard but don’t understand how it poses a risk
How would this rider respond to an emerging car? The rider may have realised that cars emerge from side turnings, but assumes that as the bike has right of way, the car driver will see the bike and wait. The rider will still be caught completely by SURPRISE! by the emerging car, there will be no planned response and the outcome is still with the gods.

3) we see a hazard, recognise it poses a risk but don’t know how to deal with it
Perhaps the rider has learned from some previous incidents but what missing now is any form of planned response. Maybe the rider develops excessive caution (perhaps avoiding ‘dangerous’ roads), slows down excessively ‘just in case’, or maybe crashes taking evastic action. The rider is no longer taken by SURPRISE! but there’s no planned strategy to get out of trouble.

4) we see a hazard, recognise it poses a risk, and react by taking appropriate avoiding action
Now the rider is capable of basic defensive riding and collision avoidance. This is essentially the level aimed at by basic training. The rider will detect the emerging car, and go into a routine to deal with the problem – perhaps slowing down and sounding the horn, whilst being ready to make an effective emergency stop or swerve.

5) we see a hazard, recognise it poses a risk, and respond by proactively reducing the risk
This is essentially the level aimed at by advanced training. Having spotted the junction ahead, the rider will respond PRO-ACTIVELY by slowing to reduce stopping distance, changing position to open up lines-of-sight and introduce a ‘safety space’ before the driver even begins to create a threat by starting to emerge. The essential step is to move from being a reactive rider (who responds AFTER the threat develops) to a pro-active rider (who takes preemptive steps to reduce risk) by constantly asking the “what if…?” question and having a “then this…!” answer ready. This stage is often marked by an attitudinal change. Rather than relying on the other driver to see and respond to the bike (“I have right-of-way”, “the driver should look harder for bikes”) the rider now begins to understand that “it takes two to tangle” – if the driver’s error sets up the POTENTIAL for a collision, the biker still has to ride into it to COMPLETE the collision. After a scary experience, this rider will probably ask “what else could I have done to avoid the situation?”

6) we anticipate a hazard, and act to eliminate the risk before it can develop
This is the next level where the rider has developed ‘insight’, and is the level Survival Skills advanced rider training courses aim to reach. We don’t have to wait until we see a junction. We can anticipate that ANY BLIND AREA – or ‘Surprise Horizon’ – could be concealing a vehicle about to emerge into our path, and we anticipate we haven’t been seen, and take appropriate steps – change of speed, change of line, ‘setting-up’ the brakes – before we even see a vehicle. Or pehaps we see a car still APPROACHING a junction and we consider strategies such as a slight increase in speed to get clear of the junction before the car gets there. And should emergency action still be needed, we are not just ready to brake hard or swerve but have already identified possible escape routes.

With my old CBT instructor hat on, novice riders on CBT are usually in Level 1, particularly if they have car experience because the lessons learned on four wheels do not apply to two.

So where does motorcycle training take us? In theory, a rider with a CBT certificate should be up at Level 4, but in reality, they’re far more likely to hover between 2 (blind faith) and 3 (luck) because there’s too much to cover on CBT to develop anything like proper defensive riding.

Donning my old Direct Access hat, riders at Level 2 would accumulate ‘serious’ faults on the bike test, and riders at Level 3 would pick up minor ‘driving’ faults. So my aim was to get riders to at least Level 4 where they could react reliably to most hazards and get a clean sheet. But if I had time and the trainee was receptive enough, I’d begin to introduce Level 5 thinking where they started to understand how to ‘get their retaliation in first’ by being pro-active in attempting to distance themselves from harm.

And with my post-test headgear in place, I’d definitely want to see Level 5 and preferably Level 6 thinking going on.

What if we don’t take post-test training? Given time and some ‘learning-by-experience’ forced on the rider by a couple of crashes in the ‘School of Hard Knocks’, it is possible to climb to Level 5. There are some very competent motorcyclists out there who have never taken post-test training. We just have to be self-critical and willing to advance.

But even if we do take higher training, there’s no guarantee it will stick. When I wrote the original version of this article, I noted that “unfortunately having passed beyond the sight of the trainer and examiner, many riders slip back to Level 3.” I was thinking in terms of basic training, but I’ve seen it can apply to riders with advanced experience too.

You’ll remember that I said back at the beginning that I originally wrote this article under the misapprehension that it is good skills that keep us safe, so at the time I’d thought this was just the natural erosion of skills and learning that happens as the memories of our training slip further into the distance. That has an effect, of course, but I’d actually hit on the really significant problem when I concluded:

“They stop planning ahead and trust to luck again.”

Why do we do this? It’s that skewing of risk that results from familiarity. The more often we encounter a risk, yet nothing goes wrong, the less we see it. Go back to the KSI stats. Out of those 350 fatal crashes every year, something under 100 happen at junctions. Let’s just make that absolutely clear. With over one million riders covering several billion miles annually, and passing uncounted junctions every single day, in the course of a year just 100 fatalities happen at junctions. The vast majority of us pass junctions perfectly safely all year long. And because things so rarely go wrong it’s easy to begin to believe that it’s our own abilities keeping us safe when the fact is it’s statistics doing the job. Without being aware of it, we are ‘trusting to luck’. And the same issue arises with every other activity on a motorcycle including the two other big killers – cornering crashes and overtaking incidents.

A former police instructor once told me that

“Done right, overtaking is perfectly safe”.

Of course it’s not. There’s always risk. It’s only when we constantly ask ourselves “what if this goes wrong?” that we are in a position to manage risk effectively. The more vivid our imagination, the more likely we are to have a realistic perception of risk. The better our technique, the less risk SHOULD be involved…

…but what if we simply use our skills to take more overtakes? What if we use them to make technically tricky passes? Haven’t we just upped the risk whilst pretending that we’re managing that risk effectively?

We think it’s our skill preventing a crash when in fact, the dice just haven’t rolled the wrong way…

…yet.

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21. Cornering Problems 1 – Lean or Brake?

Everything in the article still stands. However, a modern complication worth noting is that today’s rider is no longer dealing solely with human drivers. Many cars now use lane-keeping assist, collision avoidance braking, and steering interventions that attempt to keep the vehicle rigidly centred in its lane. These systems may trigger braking or steering inputs that are unpredictable from a rider’s point of view. And here’s something to think about when trying to hold a wide position approaching a left-hand bend (in the UK) we’ll be close to the centre line and if a vehicle appears coming the other way, the driver’s instinct may be to edge left. At that point the lane assist feature may kick in — I had that happen myself on a narrow road. When I steered towards the grass verge to make maximum room and the lane assist feature detected this as me leaving the lane and attempted to steer me back again. It’s worth thinking about, since relying on other road users to “make space” is less reliable than it once was.

Running our of road or losing control in a bend is a primary cause of bike-only accidents in the UK and also in many other countries. The problems start when riders run into the corner too fast. So an oh-so-common question is: “when I’m running into a bend at speed and see I’m running out of road in my lane, is the proper response? Should I lean more? Or should I be braking?”

The answer, as it is so often when we’re talking about motorcycles, is: “it depends”; there is rarely a ‘one size fits all’ solution. I’m going to suggest three options, explain the advantages and the risks of each, and then you will hopefully have a better understanding of how to make a sound choice in your own emergency.

I’ll take a moment to remind you of Keith Code’s ‘Survival Reactions’. In his ‘Twist of the Wrist’ books, US rider coach Keith Code explained how Survival Reactions are unplanned and unwanted reactions to a fear of personal harm. Examples are freezing, over-braking and target fixation. Typically they put us deeper in trouble rather than helping. Survival Reactions are triggered by a failure to predict the problem. When caught by SURPRISE!, and suddenly find ourselves in a mid-corner emergency, even if we have had excellent training, the fact is we’re unlikely to react any more effectively than a rider with only basic skills.

Recent research into crash avoidance suggests the answer is not more skills training but a better understanding of both what can go wrong and which strategies give us a chance to get out of trouble. This is effectively what Survival Skills has been teaching since my first course in1997, and I’ve more recently discovered it’s known as ‘Insight Training’. So to have a change of getting out of trouble mid-bend is that first we need to understand how errors happen, second we need to be know which strategies can to get us out of trouble, and thirdly we have to look at the road ahead to see just what COULD go wrong rather than believe we’re going to get things just right. This is the ‘No Surprise? No Accident’ approach to riding.

Here are two other things to remember:

:: the bike is almost always better than the rider – with the exception of some cruisers with limited ground clearance and my forty year-old classic on skinny skinny tyres, modern bikes will almost always lean beyond the point where the rider is getting uncomfortable

:: the front tyre almost always has more STEERING grip than we’ll ever use – even on wet roads, it’s rare to lose front end grip simply by steering. It’s not impossible and I have done it, but most cornering crashes result from mixing lean angle with braking. Or simply running out of road, of course.

Here’s a quick reminder of counter-steering, because that’s one of two skills we need. Push left, go LEFT. Push RIGHT, go right. Push harder, ROLL quicker, and change direction FASTER. Many riders put very gentle inputs into the bars and the result is glacially slow changes-of-direction, which won’t help one bit of we’re running out of road. Remember – trust that front tyre to grip, use positive inputs and steer the bike quickly.

So what are the three options I talked about?

Option A:- KEEP IT SIMPLE AND STEER

As I’ve just mentioned, most of us arrive in a bend with lean angle in hand. So that being the case, we can can usually exploit it:

:: keep the thottle gently open to keep the steering neutral and avoid loading the front tyre with decelerating forces

:: look through the corner towards the way out (the ‘exit’ of the bend) and NOT at the problem in front of you

:: push HARDER to add an extra counter-steering input to generate extra lean angle to make the turn on a tighter line

All we need is lean angle in the bank.

Option B:- SIT UP, BRAKE AND LEAN AGAIN

If there’s space we may be able to:

:: counter-steer the bike upright

:: use both brakes hard in a straight line

:: counter-steer to lean the bike over again at the reduced speed

This solution has been recommended in some books on advanced riding, and I’ve also been told personally on a training course that it’s the ‘correct’ response to an ‘in too fast’ issue. However, from experience, I’d say there is rarely room to apply this approach on the road. On a left-hander, it almost guarantees we’re going to run into the oncoming lane, and on a right-hander there’s little room before we run off into the hedge or over a cliff. In fact, if we want to get the MAXIMUM straight line space across the lane, we have to turn the bike at a tangent across the corner FIRST…

…and if we can do that, couldn’t we just keep steering?

Option C:- SLOW DOWN IN THE TURN

Slowing down IN the turn is the option most often frowned but in fact motorcycle cornering dynamics is on our side. When leaning, if we keep the lean angle fixed, the bike will turn on a progressively tighter line as the machine slow without us having to add any extra lean angle.

So we can slow in one of three ways:

:: roll off the throttle – straightforward provided we don’t slam it shut and destabilise the machine, a smoothly closed throttle will create engine braking and thus deceleration, but it does depend on the bike. Big twins will slow quite dramatically, small capacity two-strokes will barely decelerate at all. Mid-sized four cylinders like my 600 are in between. The gear matters too – rolling the throttle closed in a high gear will provide less engine braking than a lower gear, which is a good reason for not rolling along a twisty road in a high gear at low regs.

:: apply the rear brake only – if engine braking isn’t providing sufficient deceleration (and I wouldn’t try to force more deceleration via a downchange at this point – tt’s no coincidence many bikes now have slipper clutches to prevent lock-ups on clumsy downshifts on a closed throttle) we can apply the rear brake. This has always been the advice on UK basic training, but with the throttle already shut, we’re already creating a braking force via the rear wheel and even a modest amount of rear brake can take us over the limit of grip. It’s not too much of a problem if we have ABS but it’s still best not to trigger it if possible – most riders react in surprise when the ABS kicks in and let off the brake again. .

:: apply both front and rear brakes smoothly and progressively – modern tyres deliver far more edge grip, and unless we are already sliding the front tyre into the corner, then there IS grip left at the front for a small application of front brake. This is the concept sometimes called the ‘Traction Pie’, where the tyre splits its grip between braking and steering. If we’re braking upright, we’re using some tyre grip for braking but none for steering. If we’re rounding a corner at constant speed, we’re using some tyre grip for steering but none for braking. Between the extremes we can ‘mix and match’, just so long as we don’t bang the brakes on suddenly – that makes most road bikes sit up and go straight on. With both brakes on, even lightly, we’ll lose speed more rapidly than with engine braking along, and the bike’s line mid-corner will tighten more rapidly too. I’ve been told that this is not a technique for novices, but in reality it’s not as difficult to master or as risky as usually claimed.

So here’s how we use both brakes combined with bends:

1 – BRAKING INTO THE CORNER (trail braking) – we brake conventionally before entering the bend, but as we enter the corner, but progressively ease off the brake pressure as the lean angle increases. This sorts out a bend that we’ve entered too fast.

2 – BRAKING MID-CORNER – now we’re cornering conventionally off the brakes but mid-bend we apply the brakes lightly and as the speed comes down and the lean angle reduces, we brake progressively harder. This allow us to deal with a bend that tightened up or an encounter with a hazard such as a stopped vehicle that was out of sight when we entered the bend.

Whenever we enter a bend it’s important we avoid being caught by SURPRISE!

Some years ago, I nearly put my GSX-R750 in the River Exe when I discovered the fast left-hander ahead was actually a sharp right-hander. Having changed direction I was about to run out of room and even as I was saying to myself “lean more, don’t brake”, I hit the front brake hard which stood the bike up – I was lucky that there was some run-off into a riverside viewing point. With some progressive braking mid-bend I’d have got round without the drama. But what that anecdote should tell you is that even mid-lean, the tyre gripped when I braked!

Two final tips. If we release the front brake suddenly mid-corner, the bike will topple into the bend – ease it off progressively. If we need to come to a complete halt, turn the bike at the last moment to get it upright – this will prevent us stopping off-balance and toppling over.

To sum up, practicing quick steering and mid-corner braking is a big help when we need to make mid-corner corrections, but the real benefits come when we begin to plan ahead to deal with a bend that doesn’t go where we expect, and to hold ready in our heads the understanding that we may need to tighten our line on ANY bend. Pre-planning for the Worst Case Scenario helps prevent the panic reactions that cause crashes.

Of course, some people will read this and say that the proper answer is “don’t go into a bend too hot in the first place”. Whilst that’s useful in hindsight, it’s not much use until after we’ve RECOVERED the error, is it?

We all make mistakes, sooner or later. That’s why it’s well to know how to get out of trouble just as much as we try to use ‘better biking’ techniques to keep us out of it.

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19. Don’t just ride for yourself, ride to deal with the other road user

Although the incident described in this article happened getting on for three decades ago, it still gives me the wobbles just thinking about it; it was that close. The central lesson remains unchanged. Most serious motorcycle crashes are not caused by a rider lacking technical skill, but by a failure to anticipate how other road users might behave when under pressure, impatient, distracted or simply mistaken. Modern road-safety research increasingly recognises that collisions arise from interactions between people, not isolated errors. Riding well, therefore, is not just about what we do ourselves, but about actively managing the risks created by others — and sometimes giving them space, time or options when they run out of judgement. Were I writing this today, I’d probably mention that systems thinking, applied to road safety, explicitly recognises that collisions arise from interactions between multiple road users, not isolated “fault”. With that in mind, my criticism of the coach driver could be usefully reframed as a missed opportunity to reduce overall system risk, rather than suggesting primary fault. That was over-the-top.

However, the idea that we should not rely on others doing the right thing is still as far from mainstream acceptance as ever. Riders still rely legal right-of-way as a safety strategy and explain passive riding (“I was minding my own business”) as a defence.

Don’t just ride for yourself, ride to deal with the other road user

I originally wrote this article after hearing from a friend about a fatal collision including a rider. It seemed a car travelling in the opposite direction had come under a railway bridge on the wrong side of the road. The car had apparently been racing another bike. It brought back memories of a personal near-miss on my regular weekend route when I was working as a trainer at Cinque Ports in Kent.

It was a lovely early morning in summer and I knew the road well, having been up and down it hundreds of times. One section took in a quiet country lane, wide and well surfaced with mostly good views and few houses, farms or side roads. One section is a flat-out downhill straight, almost a mile long. It finishes with a sharp, 20mph left-hand bend which has caught numerous riders and drivers out (the skid marks tell the tale) but that’s not where things got interesting. About a third of the way down this slope, where it would be quite easy to be doing three figure speeds on any modestly-powered machine, is a slight rise. It creates a blind crest with a hidden dip on the other side. I never took it too fast over the top because I knew there was a farm entrance just ahead.

But on this particular Saturday morning, at about 7:30 am, Spidy Sense kicked in. I don’t know why, but I approached the crest rather slower than normal. Coming the other way, the top of a coach appeared. I slowed even more and moved to the left of the lane. Damn me if a speeding car didn’t appear appear on my side of the road, desperately trying to complete an overtake!

If I hadn’t reacted, our closing speed would probably have been around 120mph. But slowing down gave me just enough space to swerve right over to the nearside, and we got past each other with maybe a metre to spare. By the time I got to work fifteen minutes later, I had stopped shaking.

I hadn’t thought about this for ages, till I received Steve’s e-mail, but it brought it all back and I sat down to think about it again.

Whether the driver overtaking the coach was incompetent or took a stupid risk is irrelevant, I found him where he was and I had to deal with it. Any blind area – whether it’s riding over a crest, under a bridge or round a bend – is riding into the unknown. And we need to apply some caution – “never ride at a speed faster than one that allow you to stop in the distance you can see to be clear and EXPECT TO REMAIN CLEAR” is a good the rule but we have to be aware that it’s all controlled by just what we expect. If we expect vehicles not to cross the centre line, then we’re not expecting a whole raft of potential problems.

I’ve no evidence how fast the dead rider was travelling and it seems no blame attached to him, but being completely objective, although I’m probably more cautious than nine out of ten riders, historically I probably rode over that crest a little faster than I should have done. Why? Because for “nothing had ever gone wrong before”.

The trouble is, in situations like this, it’s only ever likely to go wrong once.

It scares me witless when I see riders launch themselves at blind corners and junctions at speeds that give them no chance of stopping in the event of something blocking the road. We should always be thinking of the Worst Case Scenario, planning to stop or at least take evasive action in an emergency.

But ultimately, the driver who was really at fault was – in my opinion – the coach driver.

Why? He made zero effort to get either of us out of trouble. Even if he was half-asleep, he’d have seen the suicidal driver attempting the overtake, and that the car wasn’t going to get back to the correct side of the road before the crest. And his higher-up driving position would have given him a sight of me a moment or two earlier than the driver could see me. If it had been me behind the coach wheel, I would have slammed the brakes on, and made as much space as possible by keeping left, hoping to give the car driver space to avoid the bike.

In the event, the drive didn’t change position and as far as I could see he didn’t even touch the brakes!

Bloodymindedness? Possibly, truck and coach drivers are loath to lose speed because it takes them so long to build it up. But more likely it was a complete lack of recognition that there was a head-on collision about to happen alongside him. It didn’t threaten him personally, therefore it didn’t even register as a danger.

Whatever the reason, the coach driver’s inaction had committed the car driver to a single, unalterable course of action. I call it ‘putting someone in jail’. The driver had no escape route and no alternative other than to keep going and hope for the best.

The point I’m making is that we might be riding along minding our own business, but by doing nothing when other road users create a dangerous situation, we still contribute to it. A good example is the rider who forces a driver to abort a turn across a main road by simply carrying on, doing nothing because “I have right of way”. Or holding a wide line around a left-hand bend forcing a truck to steer to the left to avoid hitting the bike. Backing off the throttle, turning a little tighter would make life easier for everyone. So we need to b aware of everything that goes on around us, including assessing the problems other road users face, and deciding if there’s anything we can do to help them out or even give them a way to get out of trouble.

I often wonder what gave me that premonition… did I in fact spot the coach and car in the far distance before they vanished? I don’t remember seeing them, but it’s possible I clocked them subconciously. I don’t give myself any credit for getting out of a highly dangerous situation alive where another biker didn’t. I’d rather it was seen as a reminder that however careful we are, to some extent we depend on other drivers and riders help out in moments like this, and it’s up to us as thinking riders to actively look for the problems affecting other road users, be aware of their mistakes and help them out too.

POSTSCRIPT

Some weeks later I mentioned the story and the value of keeping left over blind crests to my riding buddy Keith as we were sat on the ferry on the way to Chimay for the June racing. He was not completely convinced about the value of keeping left over blind crests. But guess what happened on the way back? A driver decided he couldn’t wait any longer to get to the front of a short stream of slower-moving cars and went to overtake the lot, towards a blind crest. He ran out of space and ended up passing the final vehicle on the wrong side of the centre line…

…just as a motorcycle appeared coming the other way.

Somehow they missed each other. I don’t know how, because I was already on the brakes, looking for an escape route to escape the expected carnage.

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14. Who is writing your biking advice? Make sure it’s good!

I sometimes pick up criticism for commenting negatively on other articles on better biking skills. “Why are you being so negative? They are only trying to help” was something I heard a while back. The trouble is, not all advice is created equal. When it comes to cornering, there’s a still a focus on prioritising ‘progress’ and textbook lines over hazard awareness, leaving riders exposed to surprises. Where we look and how we think about hazards in corners matters more than how fast we take a bend; the aim of the article is to explain why situational awareness should always come first in advanced riding. The reference to the MAC courses from 1998 may seem out of date, but in fact there is still a need for similar cautions, particularly in this age of modern tech; that might change the machine dynamics but cannot replace situational awareness.

Who is writing your biking advice? Make sure it’s good!

Some years back I was reading a new section on advanced riding on another website. The section was designed to pull in readers to the business, and I wasn’t surprised to see that the first article dealt with cornering – it usually does! But rather than being written ‘in-house’, contributions were from readers. In this case, the article appeared it was written by someone who had completed a two day Motorcycle Appreciation Course (MAC) in 1998 as part of that now-defunct Honda-run training initiative. No problem, I thought, I’m always interested in new ideas and new sources. However, reading it more closely revealed a couple of misunderstandings. At least I hoped they were misunderstandings and not what was taught!

So what did I spot that concerned me? The most important one involved our old friend the Limit Point (or vanishing, distance or convergence point) and what we should do with it.

He states “quick riding particularly through bends is all about position. Correct positioning will enable maximum visibility and consequently more rapid progress.”

Uh-oh. First warning sign. Notice the emphasis on quick riding and progress. As I stated in a previous tip, skills-based training has to be tempered by a knowledge of what can go WRONG. My first thought would be “what might make me slow down and maybe even stop”, not how fast I can get around the bend. Our goal in a bend is NOT ‘more progress’. It’s all about identifying hazards that might make us slow down. IF and ONLY IF we are certain that we cannot see any reasons to slow down, THEN we can choose whether or not making ‘progress’ is appropriate. And I know this is where the Survival Skills risk-based approach to training parts company with a lot of other post-test training in the UK.

“Therefore moving to the left for a right-hander, staying in to the left watching the vanishing point until you can see the exit then drifting away from the left towards the right easing out the bend and accelerating away will open the bend out allowing more brisk progress. The opposite applies for left-handers”.

No. Once we realise that our first task is always to work out where we might to stop, then we need to look out for the hazards that might make us stop. Gaining the best possible view around the bend isn’t the same as maximising our view of hazards.

If we’re going to experience a nasty SURPRISE! on a corner, it’s most likely to appear from a hazard called a ‘surprise horizon’. The surprise horizon is a blind area between us and the furthest point we can see is clear. The reason a surprise horizon is a hazard we need to be aware of is because of the risk that a vehicle (or a cycle or a person or even an animal) could suddenly appear. And it’s appearing between us and the limit point.

And that in turn leads to two other conclusions:

positioning to see as far as the limit point MUST be subsidiary to changing position to open up views into these blind areas. If we simply ride to open up view around a right-hand bend, it can place us perilously close to these blind entrances on the nearside.

our speed must be set to allow us to take some evasive action at the surprise horizon, not the limit point

Are there any other hazards?

We mustn’t forget that the more we position to the right-of-centre and close to the centre line, there is the potential risk of conflict with oncoming traffic. The narrower the road or the sharper the corner, the worse the risk. Too far to the right and the only benefit will be that we see what we’re about to hit a moment sooner. We must give up position if keeping right on a left-hander would potentially expose us to a risk of head-on collision. We MUST maintain a broader focus on the ROAD, not just the the corner – we must maintain SITUATIONAL AWARENESS.

Then he continued: “if all this seems rather obvious, it is probably because it is and certainly it came as nothing new to me. So why was I losing speed on the approach to bends and in some cases while negotiating them?

“I had forgotten not the need to assess the line of the road well in advance, but to maintain concentration on where it was going, in other words where I wanted to go… It took me some while to realise that instead of watching the vanishing point and chasing it, my eye was straying to changes in the road surface, the instruments, or minor obstructions. As soon as my concentration strayed, my momentum through the bend or on its approach reduced.”

Maybe I’m deliberately failing to read between the lines, but to me (and possibly to someone reading this with whilst looking for advice) this reads as if the broader situational awareness is being seen as a distraction from the all-important task of ‘making progress’ through the corner.

Of course we look at the road surface, of course we look at ‘minor obstructions’. We have to, because we are not on a race track and we need to keep an up-to-date 360 degree mental map of our surroundings, and a lot of vital detail can only be assessed when we’re closer-up. What’s a dark patch spotted in the distance? Only close up will we be able to tell if it’s a road repair with different coloured tarmac, a pothole, a damp patch or a fuel spill. Clearly, there are good times to make mirror checks and glance at the instruments, and that’s probably not in the middle of the corner, but denying that we need to check the surface or what’s left and right of our path is just plain wrong.

My guess is that the entire diagnosis of the writer’s problems was wrong. It was not ‘lack of forward vision’ so much as a late response to the hazards he had spotted – hence running in on a closed throttle – plus a general lack of a plan allowing the rider to negotiate bends as a flowing sequence. Possibly he got a lecture on the dangers of target fixation.

That would tally with what he says later about it being “a truism that we go where we look”. That’s another old chestnut. We actually look at what scares us – it’s built-in to human responses to threats. It’s target fixation and it’s a far more natural response to the threats of the road, and it takes a real effort to lift our view further ahead and away from the threat. And one of the things that creates target fixation, pulling our view down and to the immediate surroundings, is trying to ride too fast – we start focusing on the Number One job which is simply staying on the tarmac. If we haven’t got time to spread our vision around, then we’re riding too close to our limits. And there’s another reason progress should never be a goal of training, but an outcome of eliminating risk.

So next time you’re out on the bike, have a think about where you are looking. If you’re being surprised by hazards appearng AHEAD, then you need to pick your vision up and search further ahead. If you’re being surprised by hazards appearing from the SIDES then you need to spread your view left and right. In either case, you may need to slow down initially, but what you should not be doing is focusing exclusively on the limit point.

 

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12. Training for skills, pushing the envelope and margins for error, and over-confidence

The core principles discussed — balancing skills training with risk awareness, avoiding overconfidence, and recognising the limitations of both human ability and bike dynamics — remain absolutely relevant today. In fact, they’re arguably even more pertinent given the continued growth of powerful motorcycles, rider-assist technologies, and the wider availability of advanced track or skills training, which can unintentionally reinforce overconfidence. The key to reducing risk is not just honing our skills—it is understanding hazards, managing risk, and maintaining a margin for error. This article explores why true ‘better’ riding is as much about mindset and awareness as it is about technique.

Training for skills, pushing the envelope and margins for error, and over-confidence

Fundamentally, training in hazard awareness, risk assessment and risk management is the essential counterweight to balance training in riding skills. If we don’t get the balance right – or ignore the risk aspect altogether – then it’s easy to become overly confident, particularly as most of us (at least, right up to our first big crash) have false sense of indestructibility. Skills training, particularly when combined with inexperience, can lead to levels of confidence which take us into situations we cannot handle. It’s vital to recognise that this is a real issue. We should see training as a way to INCREASE our margins for error, and not an excuse to push our skills to the limit.

Let’s explain what I mean by asking a question. Why do we take training? The usual answers will be “to be a better or safer rider” or “to gain confidence”.

Let’s look at the ‘safer rider’ idea first. As I’ve said many times, there is no such thing as ‘safety’ on a motorcycle, and anyone who tells us that training makes us ‘safe’ riders is kidding us and themselves. Instead of safety, we need to think in terms of risk. In very simple terms, risk is:

the chance of something going wrong MULTIPLIED BY the impact on us when it goes wrong

So we really need a good grasp of what can go wrong!

That means understanding WHAT creates a threat to our health; that is, a ‘hazard’, WHERE we’ll find those hazards, and WHY the hazard creates a risk. Once we know that, we can assess the risk, and have a better understand how to manage that risk. It may sound the same but it creates a very different mindset when we start looking at riding in terms of “what can go wrong” rather than “what I’m doing makes me safe”.

And what about the concept of becoming a ‘better’ rider. What does ‘better’ actually mean?

For many training courses, it means that the trainee goes away with better ‘skills’. Skills tend to focus is on vehicle manoeuvring. This might be improved braking technique, better use of the throttle, the ability to swerve around an obstacle or techniques designed to improve cornering. This is particularly evident in track-based training and I often hear it suggested that new or less-confident riders to take a track-training day “to get used to handling the bike at higher speeds / greater lean angles / under harder braking”.

So the question we have to ask ourselves is “what does the trainee come away with?”

The answer is that whilst the trainee may have improved what were previously disfunctional skills, there is a risk they’ll come away from the session being able to use – and FEELING CONFIDENT TO USE – those higher speeds, greater lean angles and harder braking out on the road. It should be fairly obvious that there are potential problems here:

IMPROVING our own level of skill does NOT change bike dynamics. For example, our skill level does not change the level of grip between tyres and road. We may be more capable of braking harder or leaning more, but it also pushes us closer to the edge of the envelope.

EXPLOITING improved skills to ride faster, at greater lean angles or to brake harder DOES significantly changes bike dynamics. For example, we should know that if we double our speed, we QUADRUPLE our stopping distance. So even if we increase our speed by 25%, we increase our braking distance by more than might be obvious. More speed also increases the radius of a turn which means to get round a particular corner requires more lean angle, which makes it harder to brake or change direction, or even to respond to a slippery surface.

There’s a secondary effect. If we’re taught skills that allow us to perform more complex manoeuvres, then because they are more complex they nearly always have a higher risk of going wrong. For example, learning slow handling skills encourages riders try U-turns in confined areas where there’s a greater risk the manoeuvre will go wrong.

And finally, there’s no guarantee that we’ll use any of these added skills in an emergency. That’s something Keith Code noted years ago in his ‘Twist of the Wrist’ books. He realised that even highly-trained riders revert to instinct and panic because their training leads them to expect things to go right. When they go wrong, SURPRISE! kicks in, and they suffer from what he called ‘survival reactions’ – typically, panic reactions, freezing and target fixation.

So what I’m getting at is that there’s another kind of ‘better’ and that’s an improved understanding of what can go wrong, a heightened awareness of risk, and an ability to make better decisions when confronted with a threat.

Here is a very simple example. What’s the most common crash involving a rider in an urban area? You probably guessed, it’s the ‘Sorry Mate I Didn’t See You’ SMIDSY collision.

So first of all we need an understanding that driver can fail to see a motorcycle even when it seems to the rider that the bike is perfectly visible. (If you want to find out more about that, check out my work on the Science Of Being Seen or SOBS for short at http://scienceofbeingseen.wordpress.com.) ONLY when we have THAT understanding, do we have an awareness that there is a genuine risk that we may not be seen.

Then when we have achieved that, we can put BOTH parts – better skills and better awareness of what goes wrong – together. Stategies can be put in place to manage the risk, including our skills-based training – slowing down, changing position to improve lines of sight, sounding the horn, being prepared to take evasive action by emergency braking and / or swerving.

So here’s the Survival Skills approach to advanced motorcycle training. Rather than push closer to the ‘edge of the envelope’, let’s increase our ‘margin for error’. Instead of using our ability to brake harder to carry more speed, let’s use our awareness of the risks of riding to exploit those skills to stop in shorter distances in emergencies. Instead of using our ability to lean over further to increase our cornering speed, let’s understand what can go wrong in a corner to hold it at the same angle in case the corner tightens – so we have ‘BANK in the BANK’, to quote one of the Nosurprise.org ‘Rhyming Reminders’. Instead of trying to perform a U-turn in a confined space, understand that making life complex increases the risks of things going wrong, so look for somewhere easier or perform a three-point turn instead.