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56. Wide lines, tight lines, right lines – the law of Diminishing Returns

This article challenges the idea that “positioning for view” is ‘necessary’ to be seen as an advanced rider. Whilst it’s accepted that “positioning for safety” should always be first in the hierarchy of ‘safety — stability — view’, as an absolute rather than a trade-off. As I’ve said elsewhere, “safety” is an abstract goal, as in “more view must be safer”, but risk is a trade-off between exposure and benefit. Riders often accept a large increase in exposure (to oncoming traffic or hidden hazards) in exchange for a very small gain in information (measured in metres or fractions of a second), without consciously evaluating whether that trade is favourable. The extra metres of visibility only have real value we intend to act on them, and in practice that usually means carrying more speed through the bend, which magnifies the consequences of any mistake. That’s the paradox; more view doesn’t automatically make us safer if we simply use it to ride faster — and that’s where risk creeps back in. The safest line is not the widest or the tightest, but the one that leaves the greatest margin for error when something goes wrong — including our mistakes as well as the mistakes of others.

Wide lines, tight lines, right lines – the law of Diminishing Returns

Years ago, I went along to one of the very first BikeSafe courses run by the Met Police, and had a good day, picking up a couple of useful tips and generally being impressed with the comments. One of my few negative observations on the day was the way the police rider taking us out held a wide line, right out on the white line, around left-hand bends even when there was traffic coming the other way*. I felt the position was too extreme, and when writing up my day out, I made this comment on my regular bike forum. The ensuing discussion surprised me.

One forum member, a former bike cop himself, took me to task and insisted that if the rider gained an extra half-second view ahead, then the wide position was worth it.

I thought about the cornering crash stats, and just how many riders are killed on left-hand corners. It’s pretty obvious that seeing the spiky thing on the front of the tractor half a second sooner if it’s about to impale us doesn’t really help much. A second trainer :

“There are times when position for view is the last thing (but not ‘final’) to be considered. Narrow lanes, tight blind corners? Forget ‘progress’, hug the left verge.”

Then up popped a third instructor with:

“Seeing something half a second earlier CAN make a difference. What is important is that your speed is right such that you are able to deal with any situations as they occur.

“Very often people are simply carrying too much speed as opposed to being in the wrong position. The two combined are a lethal combination, 2 mph can be too much, just lose it and manage the problem.”

So which is it? Should we hold that wider line and get a slightly better view around a left-hander? Or should we tuck in a little closer to the nearside and sacrifice a bit of view for some extra clearance to oncoming vehicles?

The answer, to my mind, usually lies with the simpler option.

If we hold the wide line out alongside the centre line, and we DO see something we need to avoid, then we need to move – and pretty rapidly too – to the left to get out of the way.

If on the same corner we hold a slightly tighter line, we have slightly less view around the corner, but the chances of meeting a vehicle cutting the corner and requiring some evasive action are lessened. And we’ll probably not have to move so far for that evasive manoeuvre.

But there’s another consideration. The only real reason for holding a wide line around a corner is to carry more speed. Think about it – we need to be able to ‘stop in the distance we can see to be clear on our side of the road’ etc. That’s the instruction from ‘Motorcycle Roadcraft’, the police manual. If we move left, we can still apply the rule, just at a slightly slower speed because we can see a little less far.

How much is our view restricted? Well, mid-corner it’s not nearly as much as is generally believed. The diagrams in Roadcraft are massively exaggerated in terms of width of the road, simply to make the point clear. But on real roads which are much narrower, the extra distances we can see by taking up wide positions is just a few metres. If you’re sceptical, you can easily see for yourself. Stop near a left-hand bend, and walk to the centre of the lane – look up the road and see where the limit point is. Now walk out to the centre line, and have a second look. You won’t be seeing much further around the corner. If you don’t fancy getting round down, you can achieve much the same result by using the satellite view on Googlemaps and zooming in on a bend. Lay a straight edge over the screen and move it around to simulate the different lines of sight. I think you’ll be surprised how little extra the view moves forward as you shift from a centre-of-the-lane position to the extreme right.

The real benefit of the wide-right position on a left-hander is not what we can see of the the road ahead, it’s actually an earlier view – and more separation from – the other big threat on any twisty road; blind driveways, entrances to fields, and side turnings on the inside of the corner…

…and if we DO find something pulling out from the left or turning into the entrance across our path, we better be able to stop in short order.

Suddenly, the benefits of carrying more speed around the bend don’t look quite so important as the ability to stop when we find the road blocked.

  • I repeated BikeSafe in 2018 and am happy to report that the police rider was taking up rather less extreme positions!

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55. Workload – the reason to Keep it Simple, Stupid

When this article was first written, the idea that rider and driver errors were often the result of cognitive overload rather than poor attitude or insufficient commitment was not widely accepted in motorcycling. Even now, there is still pushback in certain sectors framing errors as a simple deficiency in attitude or technique.

Since then, the same conclusions this article draws have been repeatedly confirmed in aviation, medicine and other safety-critical industries: human attention is finite, workload is cumulative, and once capacity is exceeded, performance degrades in predictable ways. This article reads, in hindsight, like a bridge between disciplines — translating human factors research into rider language well before that became fashionable. I could legitimately position it as an early application of systems safety thinking to motorcycling rather than simply an “advanced riding” piece.

Is it still relevant? Absolutely. Modern motorcycles may be more capable and modern riders more skilled, but the human brain — whether that’s the rider’s or the driver’s — has not changed. If anything, increased traffic density, in-helmet communications, information-rich dash panels and navigation systems, and ever-more complex riding environments make workload management more important than ever. The principles that follow were not speculative then — and they are even more relevant now.

Workload – the reason to Keep it Simple, Stupid

Over the years, one of my areas of fascination in researching the background for my Survival Skills advanced rider training courses has been the human brain and how it copes with riding. Our brains reached their current form with the appearance of Homo Sapiens around 200,000 years ago. But many components that make up our modern brain have their origins in the lower branches of the evolutionary tree. It’s always been a bit of a puzzle to me how something that evolved when man had a top speed of something over 20 mph should be able to function rapidly enough to deal with riding at speeds well above that. I initially wrote this article with half an eye on the claims that using a hands-free mobile phone was safer than using a hand-held device, and with the other half on claims that skilled riders can safely use more complicated skills and techniques. It’s been rewritten somewhat, but the essential thinking about our ability to process limited amounts of information remains unchanged, as is the conclusion that we should use the simplest technique that is effective. Eventually, all this reading around the topic produced my book ‘MIND over MOTORCYCLE’ which you can find on my publisher page at http://lulu.com/spotlight/SurvivalSkills. The book covers all this and more.

In the mid-80s a series of studies were carried out to evaluate a proposed one-man attack helicopter. The cockpit systems used a significant amount of automation. Neverthelss, it was determined that a single crew member could not adequately perform all the required tasks. As a result, the Comanche helicopter uses a two-person crew.

The term workload refers to the total demand placed on an individual as a task is performed. And even experienced and expert riders have a finite limit to the mental workload they can handle.

Now, if you want to, you can skip forward to how we cope on the road, but if you want more detail about the demands workload places on the brain, carry on reading.

The theory of competing resource channels

One explanation is that workload does not make demands on a single ‘central’ processing resource but instead uses several channels which compete for processing resources.

This theory was propopsed because we can easily walk and chew gum at the same time, but we cannot talk and listen at the same time – one explanation is that there must be multiple resources for information processing. These processing resources are usually described by four components; visual, auditory, cognitive and psychomotor, and any task can be broken down into the demands it places on each resource channel. The visual and auditory components refer to the external stimuli that are attended to, the cognitive component refers to the level of information processing required and the psychomotor component refers to the physical actions.

Rating scales have been developed for each component. The scales provide a relative rating of the degree to which each resource component is used. They were developed by providing surveys containing matched pairs of task descriptions to a range of human factors experts who were asked to indicate, for each pairing, which one required a higher level of effort. The higher the scale value the greater the degree of use of the resource component.

Scale – Value Description of Activity

  • Visual

0.0 – No Visual Activity

1.0 – Visually Register/Detect (detect occurrence of image)

3.7 – Visually Discriminate (detect visual differences)

4.0 – Visually Inspect/Check (discrete inspection/static condition)

5.0 – Visually Locate/Align (selective orientation)

5.4 – Visually Track/Follow (maintain orientation)

5.9 – Visually Read (symbol)

7.0 – Visually Scan/Search/Monitor (continuous/serial inspection, multiple conditions)

  • Auditory

0.0 – No Auditory Activity

1.0 – Detect/Register Sound (detect occurrence of sound)

2.0 – Orient to Sound (general orientation/attention)

4.2 – Orient to Sound (selective orientation/attention)

4.3 – Verify Auditory Feedback (detect occurrence of anticipated sound)

4.9 – Interpret Semantic Content (speech)

6.6 – Discriminate Sound Characteristics (detect auditory differences)

7.0 – Interpret Sound Patterns (pulse rates, etc.)

  • Cognitive

0.0 – No Cognitive Activity

1.0 – Automatic (simple association)

1.2 – Alternative Selection

3.7 – Sign/Signal Recognition

4.6 – Evaluation/Judgment (consider single aspect)

5.3 – Encoding/Decoding, Recall

6.8 – Evaluation/Judgment (consider several aspects)

7.0 – Estimation, Calculation, Conversion

  • Psychomotor

0.0 – No Psychomotor Activity

1.0 – Speech

2.2 – Discrete Actuation (button, toggle, trigger)

2.6 – Continuous Adjustive (flight control, sensor control)

4.6 – Manipulative

5.8 – Discrete Adjustive (rotary, vertical thumbwheel, lever position)

6.5 – Symbolic Production (writing)

7.0 – Serial Discrete Manipulation (keyboard entries)

Generally speaking, we have enough mental resources to carry out the most demanding tasks in any one of these categories or to carry out multiple but undemanding tasks that engage different channels.

But…

if we’re performing more than one task at the same time and those tasks make demands on similar components, the result is likely to be excess workload – we simply run out of brainpower to perform both tasks effectively. Any cumulative workload value of 8 or more was defined as an unacceptable workload level. Once we exceed the acceptable workload, the result is likely to be errors in our performance of those tasks. This includes a general slowing-down of the performance (it takes longer to process data and respond), task shedding (where we forget to do something completely), or rapid task switching (we hop back and forth ineffectually from one task to the other).

The component scale has been applied to model the tasks of driving whilst making a call on a mobile phone.

Task: Vis. Aud. Cog. Psy-M.

Driving: 6 1 3.7 2.6

Stopped at Light: 3 1 3.7 0

Start after stop: 6 1 4.6 2.6

Dial and Press Send: 5 4.3 5.3 7

Wait to connect: 0 4.3 3.7 2.6

Talk: 0 6 6.8 2.6

The model can therefore predict the individual component and total workload of the combined driving and cell phone tasks at any point during the execution of the combined tasks.

Workload Maximum Mean

Visual 11.00 6.26

Auditory 7.00 6.62

Cognitive 10.50 10.02

Psychomotor 9.60 5.43

From these figures it’s clear that the combined Cognitive tasks of driving whilst talking on the phone exceed the acceptable workload figures at all times. It’s not just when dialling to make a call when the task also makes demands of our visual and psychomotor resources which exceed the acceptable workload. And so drivers attempting to hold a conversation on a hands-free phone whilst behind the wheel are prone to make mistakes that a driver focused solely on driving would be highly unlikely to make.

What about on two wheels? The resources required to ride the bike would include all four components; the visual resource of looking at the road ahead, the cognitive resource as we interprete the visual data, the psychomotor resource which refers to the movement of arms, hands and feet to control the machine and even the auditory resource which would monitor from the sound of the engine.

So, how does this impact on real riding?

There is a limit to the amount of ‘mental processing power’ we have to ride a motorcycle. It would sound like riding would be difficult, if not impossible, in complex riding situations because we would exceed the workload limit. So we’d expect to see errors in performance of various tasks, a slowing-down of the performance of those tasks, task-shedding where we lose track of one part of the overall task, or rapid task switching where we ineffectually hop back and forth from one part of task to the another.

And in fact, that’s exactly what an instructor will see with a novice rider. A complex task such as a right turn (which involves making visual checks, a change of gear and the movement of the indicator switch, the cognitive element of judging speed and distance of the machine and other vehicles, plus the steering of the machine itself) might be performed perfectly off-road. But as soon as the novice rider attempts the same task on-road, it’s often poorly performed; visual checks go missing, the bike ends up in the wrong gear or the clutch control goes out the window, and indicators get forgotten.

So how do we ever overcome the problem?

The answer is that we ‘automate’ routine tasks – for example, the clutch / gear / throttle manipulation soon becomes so deeply embedded we no longer think about it, it just ‘happens’. And we can also learn to have a pre-planned response to specific ‘cue’ which also occurs below the level of consciousness. People have trouble believing this but our response to a red traffic light is a good example. Once out of the novice stage where we’re still actively scanning around for traffic signals, we don’t really ‘see’ the red light, we just drop into the routine of judging speed and distance, and slowing down effectively.

So, with experience, we become able to handle many straightforward tasks without having to process the incoming data in the real-time conscious ‘thinking’ brain. And that frees up attention for effective mirror checks, checking the surface ahead of us where we’re going to brake, and wondering whether the light might change back to green before we have to stop.

But the more complicated the task, the less attention we have to spare. Maybe we’re attempting to negotiate not just a single set of lights, but a complex road layout with multiple lanes in busy traffic, whilst trying to read road signs. Now, there’s a good chance we start to task-shed and skip steps – because our eyes are scanning the scene ahead, mirror checks often go missing.

And this brings me back to the helicopter. We don’t have the luxury of a second crew member. We have to get everything right alone, and that means the simpler we make riding, the less likely we are to hit the workload limit, and where something has to give.

I’ve written about overtaking, and gone through all the many points at which an overtake can go wrong – this article should give you a better idea why. The workload processing required to decide whether an overtake is ‘on’ or not takes even highly-experienced riders to the limit or even beyond their ability to mentally process all the data. So it’s incredibly easy to miss something, and it’s usually something obvious when we look at what went wrong retrospectively. Something as simple as the vehicle being overtaken indicating to turn right. Because of the demands on our processing resources, the flashing indicator never made it into the rider’s conscious awareness. And that’s why I suggest that we always keep things as simple as possible. If there are two ways to perform a task, the simplest method is nearly always the most reliable way.

And don’t forget the problem of talking on a mobile phone. But what do some instructors ask trainees to do – talk into a radio whilst riding in the form of a verbal commentary. Asking even an experienced rider to make a verbal commentary on a ride isn’t a good idea because it pushes the rider into ‘workload overload’ condition – check out the values from the first table:

Searching the road ahead: 7.0 – (Visually Scan/Search/Monitor (continuous/serial inspection, multiple conditions) )

Think what to say: 6.8 – (Evaluation/Judgment (consider several aspects) )

Say it: 1.0 – (Speech)

TOTAL WORKLOAD: 14:8

That’s way over our workload limit and we’ve not even talked about riding the bike! So that is why I don’t ask riders to perform a commentary ride.

“But the police do it all the time” I hear you say.

Indeed. Now, listen to HOW they talk. They have learned a very stilted, formalised language. They’ve essentially removed the need to THINK how to express what they see. And this brings workload down significantly. They also learn commentary riding and driving as part of a much longer course than a civvie rider will ever experience.

So this is why I do NOT require anyone to perform a commentary AS they ride. What I do is find places to stop, and let them perform their commentary at the side of the road. We’ve removed the workload connected with riding the machine and they can turn all their faculties towards identifying hazards. Even when I perform a commentary ride for the trainee, I’m aware that they have to listen, consider what I’ve just said, and visually search the scene to see what I’m talking about. So I only ever perform a commentary ride at a nice gentle pace that minimises the other workload demands on my trainee.

And finally, the workload overload issue is one of the reasons I use a building block approach to training, and why speeds are kept low when applying those new techniques. Covering new techniques one at a time is less-demanding and keeping speed down allows for correction when (not if!) mistakes are made.

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54. Overtaking – Questions and Answers

Nothing’s changed about overtaking. The central thesis — that overtaking is a risk management problem, not a technical skill exercise — aligns closely with modern advanced riding doctrine and collision analysis. Arguably, the risks surrounding overtaking have not diminished. Traffic density has increased, vehicles are quicker, and the fundamental problem remains unchanged: overtaking is one of the few manoeuvres where we commit ourselves to a manoeuvre which relies on predictable behaviour of other road users, all at high relative speeds. Modern motorcycles may accelerate harder and stop better, but so do cars either ahead of us or coming the other way. If anything, improved motorcycle performance is a trap into thinking it makes overtaking “easier” but actually making poor decisions unfold faster. The principles that follow are therefore not dated cautions, but enduring risk-management tools for one of riding’s highest-consequence manoeuvres.

Overtaking – Questions and Answers

I originally put this particular article together for two reasons. It was partly because of the volume of emails directed to my old ‘Doctor’s Surgery’ page, and an even larger number of questions posted on the bike forum I was moderating. And it was partly because of the crash statistics and the shocking rate of fatalities resulting from overtaking errors. Just one study from Cheshire (see ‘Accident Statistics – dispelling some myths’) showed that just under 10% of all crashes in the study resulted from overtaking errors, including overtaking a car that turned right and head-on collisions. As I wrote at the time I penned the original, that particular study is a few years old now, but from what I can see, nothing much has changed. Give riders a chance to overtake, and a significant proportion of us still manage to get it wrong – badly. So rather than write yet another “here’s the right way to overtake”, let’s look at the cautions we should build into our planning; cautions to be applied whether we’re new to biking or experienced.

There are two kinds of overtaking crash. Those made by riders who don’t understand how to perform an overtake in the first place – I was certainly in that category for my first few years of riding and was lucky to survive some serious errors. But there are a second kind too – what I’ve come to realise over the years is that experienced riders, and especially those with a post-test riding qualification, become rather blase about the risks of overtaking. The more we carry out the overtaking manoeuvre, the more it becomes routine. Riders who started with cautious overtakes and wide margins for error begin to get increasingly confident. And then they begin to cut back on those margins.

Whever the source of the error, the trouble is that when we get an overtake badly wrong there’s a fair chance it’ll be both the first, the last and the ONLY time it goes badly wrong – the consequences are often fatal. When overtaking goes wrong, we may not get a chance to learn from our mistake.

Q What are the legal aspects of overtaking?

A Off to the Highway Code. All overtaking must be made to the RIGHT or offside of the vehicle except:

  • when the driver in front is turning right and there is sufficient room, it is safe and legal to overtake to the left

  • when the rider is turning left and there is sufficient room to do so

  • in one way streets where traffic in the right hand lane(s) is travelling slower

  • in slow moving traffic where traffic is moving slower in the outside lane, provided the rider does not change lanes to gain advantage

YOU MUST NOT OVERTAKE :

  • where it would mean crossing double or single solid white lines. (The exception to this rule is when it’s safe to pass an obstruction such as a road maintenance vehicle, a cyclist or a horse. They must be either stationary or travelling at less than 10mph)

  • within the zigzag area on approach to a pedestrian crossing (i)

  • where signs indicate a prohibition

i) The actual traffic regulation is that you must not pass the car nearest the crossing within the zigzag markings – so you could legally filter up next to it, but not overtake until clear of the crossing.

YOU SHOULD NOT OVERTAKE where forward vision is restricted to such an extent that there is insufficient room to complete the manoeuvre in the area visible, such as on the approach to:

  • a corner or bend

  • dead ground

  • a brow of a hill or bridge

Q I often see bikes overtaking and squeezing by cars just inside a solid line on the rider’s side. Is that legal?

A The law says that no part of the bike (and that includes your body and your panniers – likely to be the widest part of your machine) should cross the solid white line. Just keeping the wheels inside isn’t enough. And crossing it, no matter how tempting, is illegal – points and a fine. But, technically, if there is room then it is legal to pass inside the solid line.

However… drivers will NOT expect to be overtaken on a road with a solid line, will not be expecting it and may react aggressively as most road users think a solid line means no overtaking.

Q What about cross-hatched areas?

A If there are no legal restrictions, there are no specific rules to say no. With cross-hatched areas bounded by a broken line, the problem is a matter of interpretation of the law, which says we can enter if “safe and necessary to do so”. We can – and I have – argued what constitutes ‘necessary’ many times. The problem is that your interpretation of necessary as “necessary to get ahead of a slower vehicle” may not be a non-biking magistrate’s interpretation. Cross-hatched areas are there to create empty space by keeping traffic flows apart, often to protect vehicles turning right, on bends where there is a lot of heavy traffic, or perhaps where lanes are about to diverge or merge together; they are not handy motorcycle overtaking lanes. Using them to ‘make progress’ may not be illegal per se, but it could be risky. I will use them, but I’ll have a good look to try to work out why they are there before I do.

Q OK, so how about up the middle of wide roads with a broken line? Can I pass between lanes of traffic where the road is wide enough? That’s legal, surely?

Legal perhaps, but no-one expects to encounter a bike overtaking down the middle of opposing streams of traffic. What if someone ahead moves out for a better view ahead? What if an oncoming driver reacts aggressively? What if we meet someone doing the same thing from the opposite direction? Although they’ve become very rare, three-lane roads which allowed overtaking from opposite directions were notorious for head-on collisions.

Q OK, so if I avoid those traps, all I have to worry about when overtaking is if it is safe and legal?

A Ask yourself: why you are overtaking? Is there any point in overtaking one vehicle in a long queue on a twisty road where you know there are no other overtakes possible for miles? Is there any point in overtaking just before a roundabout? Is there any point overtaking a car travelling at much the same speed as you? Is there any point making a difficult overtake on a single carriageway when there is a sign saying “DUAL CARRIAGEWAY 1 MILE”?

Q Of course – I make more progress. Isn’t that good?

A ‘Making progress’ has become a byword for ‘advanced motorcyclist’. After a decade and a half of working as a courier, I knew a little about getting from A to B without hanging around too much. Even so, when I put myself through the IAM system back in the late 90s, I rather surprised to be pulled up on an observed ride by my observer for failing to overtake a pickup truck travelling at around 40 in a 60 limit on a dead straight road, since we were just approaching a short stretch of 30 limit through a village, and I could see the national limit resumed on the other side. The conversation that followed was along these lines:

Obs – “you had an opportunity to make a safe pass before the village”
Me – “but what happened to the speed limit 300m past the point I would have completed the overtake?”
Obs – “It went from 60 to a 30”
Me – “but how long did it last? You could see the national limit sign at the other end of the village.”
Obs – “yes, but you could have made a safe overtake before the village.”
Me – “did you notice if the pickup slowed down for the speed limit?”
Obs – “No it didn’t.”

Now, about this point our planning diverged. Mine was based on the reasonable assumption that a driver ambling along a dead straight bit of 60 limit at 40 would probably continue ambling along at 40 in the dead straight bit of 30 limit. His was based on the letter of the law.

Me – “So, I would have overtaken the truck, then slowed for the limit, only to have it stuck to my number plate for the next half mile”.
Obs – “That’s the driver’s problem, not yours.”

I disagreed then and I disagree now. It’s very much my problem. By overtaking, I’ve converted a hazard that was ahead of me, where I can see it easily and can choose my own following distance, into one that’s behind me where I cannot control the gap and one which I can only see in the mirrors. I actually lose control of the situation.

Me – “did I lose the opportunity to make any useful progress?”
Obs – “yes, you could have overtaken before the village.”

Once again, I disagree. The gain was one vehicle on a lightly-trafficked road. Given the short stretch of 30 limit, it was perfectly reasonable to defer the overtake until I was out the other side, and back in the national limit.

So, here’s the first question we ask, and it’s not “is it safe?”. It’s “is it sensible and does it make USEFUL progress?” Getting one vehicle further up the road is neither here nor there, and having to slow down right in front of the vehicle we’ve just passed isn’t sensible.

And here’s the kicker. Overtaking is ALWAYS risky. So if we can defer a riskier manoeuvre – like that overtake on a single carriageway – until there’s less risk on the dual carriageway, that has to be a good thing.

Q Surely if an overtake is done properly, there’s no risk?

A Years ago, an ex-police instructor told me quite categorically that “done well, an overtake is perfectly safe”. He was wrong. As a moment’s thought would have told him, we can NEVER completely eliminate risk. From the moment we ride away from the kerb, there are always things that can go wrong and so our job is risk management. The biggest problem with overtaking is that we’re not facing what the DVSA have called a ‘static hazard’. A bend is a static hazard. The bend cannot change its mind about which way it’s going – what we see is what we’re going to get, and so long as our observation skills and ridiing technique are reasonably proficient, we should get round it. The only person who can get it wrong is the rider.

But an overtake involves at least one other human, quite possibly several humans. And however carefully we plan ahead, we CANNOT control what another human does. And if there’s one thing we should have learned almost as soon as we hit the road, it’s that humans make mistakes. Mid-overtake, however carefully we plan ahead, we’re relying on other drivers to do what we expected them to do. It’s when they behave in a way we were NOT expecting that things go wrong.

Q What are the big dangers whilst overtaking?

A Apart from making such a foul-up of the overtake that we hit a car coming the other way, the biggest dangers are colliding with the vehicle we’re passing as it pulls out itself to overtake, hitting a car as it turns right, being hit by a car emerging from the right, or running into a car emerging from the left and turning into our path!

Q But no-one can miss seeing a car coming towards them!

A Sometimes riders don’t miss the oncoming vehicle, but deliberately choose to pull out into its path. What we have to look at is not just the distance we need to get past a slower vehicle, but to allow AT LEAST the same distance ahead to deal with an oncoming vehicle appearing just as we commit to the overtake. Think about it.

The big problem is that our ability to judge the speed and distance of oncoming vehicles is sketchy at best at the kind of speeds and distances we need for overtakes on the open road. And the quicker the traffic we’re passing, the easier it is to misjudge the gap ahead. Don’t rely on just one glance to judge speed and distance – it’s easy to miss the Ferrari being driven enthusiastically and closing from the other direction at high speed. That’ll fill the gap we were planning on using. We’d better not be in it.

But sometimes we cannot see the oncoming vehicle when we commit to overtaking, because we’re approaching a blind corner or maybe a blind crest. Legally, we have to be back to our side of the road where the line on our side turns solid, so most riders aim to return to the nearside as they pass the two ‘toeing-in’ arrows. But what if that Ferrari appears around the bend going like the clappers? That point-of-return will be far too late. So we need to build in a much bigger margin – essentially, if we cannot return to the left WELL BEFORE the arrows, we really shouldn’t commit ourselves. Likewise, we shouldn’t be cutting back in right in front of the vehicle we’ve just past. A ‘well-judged’ overtake that returns just before the solid line is actually an overtake with no margin for error. And with no margin, they have a habit of going wrong.

The final reason for hitting something head-on is because we attempt a multi-vehicle pass, aiming for a gap somewhere ahead, and the gap closes leaving us hung out to dry. Firstly, the old pilot’s adage – never take-off without knowing where to land. We need to be absolutely certain of a gap to return to on the nearside. I’m highly cautious overtaking towards oncoming traffic, even when there appears to be a gap, because it may close up. I’ve had drivers try to help me out by braking just as I’m planning on pulling back behind them, and I’ve also been caught out passing vehicles that are themselves catching a slower-moving HGV. So we need to be really sure that the gap will still be there when we need it. Really, we should have TWO gaps to aim for – our intended landing zone and a back-up. And of course, if the car we’re intending to pull in behind suddenly brakes to ‘help out’, it’s possible to run into the back of it. That’s a sign the landing zone was too short!

Q But what about the collision with the car turning right? If I’m overtaking and someone turns right, it’s not my fault is it? He’s supposed to check his mirror, isn’t he?

A Unfortunately, riders think they have a ‘right to overtake’ and that it’s the driver’s responsibility to keep them safe. Motorcycle News went as far as putting a “Think bike before turning right” sticker on an issue years back, telling riders to put them on petrol pumps. I’m not even going to go into all the reasons drivers miss bikes in the mirrors. I’m simply going to ask you, if a car COULD turn right, what on earth is the biker doing overtaking just there?

That campaign was another excuse for riders not thinking for themselves. On a quiet bit of road, take a look at all the places a vehicle COULD turn right – side turnings, access roads, petrol stations… they’re all obvious. What about driveways? Is it always easy to see the drive of a cottage on a country road? Where can a tractor turn right? Anywhere it likes. Knowing how difficult some of these places are to spot detunes me compared with less-cautious riders.

Because it’s hard to spot a lot of the places where a vehicle COULD turn, we need to be really on the ball. We can watch the vehicle itself for clues. If it’s just slowed down, that’s not an invitation to overtake, but a warning sign. Watch the driver to see where they’re looking – if it’s not ahead, it could be where they are about to turn. We need to be particularly careful when we’ve just caught a slower vehicle up, particularly on a twisty road or if we’ve just overtaken from behind – the driver may not have seen us. If we do decide to pass, there’s the horn? A short note just before we fully commit will warn him we’re are there!

Q So if I’m sure the driver won’t turn right, I’m safe to overtake, right?

A Wrong. What goes in must come out. If a vehicle can turn right, another can pull out. Most of us – bikers included – look right before turning out to the left. Expecting a motorcycle on the wrong side of the centre line is not in most road users’ minds when they prepare to emerge. Watch out for lay-bys too – drivers are usually searching for traffic in their mirrors.

Q OK, so I’ll take care to look for junctions on the right, but what’s the problem overtaking a car turning left?

A Simple. Here’s one issue. The slowing vehicle swings out wide to make the turn easy and sideswipes the bike into the undergrowth. Surprisingly common. Another is that a second vehicle pulls out ahead of us because our bike is in the blind spot behind the turning vehicle, and the driver’s not expecting anything to be overtaking. If the driver turns right, they’ll be looking left too, and we’ll have a head-on. If the driver turns left, that may be the gap we were planning on moving back into. And of course, the driver may cancel the signal and carry on, hanging us out to dry on the wrong side of the centre line.

And here’s one that nearly caught me out as a courier. I went to pass a car that was turning left on a wide road, but the driver flashed another driver of a car that was waiting to turn right in the same road, intending for him to cross first into the side road. The second driver started to turn, then spotted me bearing down on him and stopped! The road ahead of me was now almost completely blocked. Fortunately I’d long since learned to keep the speed down when overtaking, and was able to stop.

Q So, I’ve finally decided it’s safe to pass – with my powerful bike I should be able to get past as quickly as possible, right?

A Wrong. The performance of modern bikes is a trap, not an advantage, partly because modern cars and trucks are a lot quicker too and partly because the straights on our roads haven’t got any longer. And once we’ve gained speed, we have to lose it again. Especially when we’re passing more than one vehicle, if we simply aim to pass “as quickly as possible” (and I winced when I heard another instructor say that) sooner rather than later we’ll end up regretting all that speed as things don’t go as we expected ahead. It may be tempting to blast past a line of slower vehicles, but we need to treat each individually as a separate overtake and be able to bail out at each stage – if we’re thinking of overtaking, what’s to stop one of those drivers doing exactly the same? So if the only way to pull off the overtake is in one hit at high speed, then don’t.

Q So what’s so risky about overtaking on dual carriageways?

A One of the biggest dangers are junctions where vehicles can turn through the central reservation. These junctions are relatively rare (most have been blocked up) but the crash risk is high. Even when there is no crossing the lanes, slip roads are often very short with emerging drivers struggling to gain speed to match the traffic bearing down. The result can be hard braking or sudden lane changes ahead. In either case, I usually defer overtaking till I’m clear of the junction, unless I can see that the junction’s clear.

Most of the other issues are down to speed differentials. Slow-moving vehicles including cycles and tractors are allowed on dual carriageways and we can come up on them quickly, so we need to look and plan well ahead so we can move out in good time. If we’re already passing slower traffic, look for cars in the inside lane catching HGVs that will probably want to pull out to overtake themselves. Don’t hover alongside in mirror blindspots and don’t approach at excessive speed – you may need to slow down if they pull out. suddenly in front of you, so don’t sit in their blind spots. On three lane stretches, watch out for someone moving from the inside lane as we move back into the middle lane from the outside lane. A signal helps enormously.

And before we move out to make a pass, a series of mirror checks is best followed by a final blind spot shoulder check. However good our mirror checks, there’s always the risk of finding a vehicle lurking right in the OUR blind spot.

Q So I just sit behind the vehicle ahead and wait for a big gap.

A Sort of. The simplest way to overtake is if we can simply move out wide early to get a view past the slower vehicle – if the road ahead looks clear, we simply carry on and our speed differential carries us past the slower vehicle. And if it’s not clear, we simply move back in, then match speed.

But once we have to wait for a gap, then our first decision is how far behind the slower vehicle we should ride. If you’ve read ‘Motorcycle Roadcraft’ (or taken Roadcraft-based training) you’ve probably heard of the ‘following’ and ‘overtaking’ positions.

Essentially, the ‘following’ position is the normal distance behind the vehicle ahead, which allows us to stop if the vehicle ahead comes to an unexpected halt. That’s where we should be when there’s no prospect of overtaking. But if we think we may have an opportunity to pass, then it’s suggested we move up into a much closer ‘overtaking’ position from where we make the final Go/Stay decision.

Now, the big problem is that we’ve compromised our following distance. In theory, we only move up when we think we might be able to pass and if it turns out we can’t, we should drop back again and reinstate a safe distance. On a lightly-trafficked road, we should be able to make the overtake without too much delay and just a couple of forwards / backwards iterations, and that was likely the case on most roads when Roadcraft was first written to deal with 50s and 60s traffic.

Unfortunately, real life and heavy 21st century traffic intrudes on the theory.

The first observation I’ll make (and one that I have never heard anyone else explicitly admit) is that the only reason we NEED to use the closer ‘overtaking’ position is because we’re looking for to overtake in less distance – either a shorter straight between bends, or a smaller gap between oncoming vehicles. That restricted distance is why we need to be closer up in the first place. If that weren’t the case, we could overtake from the more distant position.

The second issue (also rarely mentioned) is that we’re often being followed by other vehicles. The drivers will of course maintain THEIR OWN following distance behind us. As we move up, they stay the same distance behind us. So when we try to drop back, we drop back into THEIR following space. And they are now too close behind. Put that together with a busy 21st century road and this moving up / dropping back means we’re ping-ponging back and forth from the tailgate of the car ahead to the bonnet of the car behind. If we make this forwards/backwards movement too exaggerated or too often, it can and will confuse and irritate the driver ahead (who is watching you in the mirrors) and the driver behind (who wonders why you can’t ride at a constant speed).

On a busy road, the temptation is to sit permanently in the close-up overtaking position waiting for the next opportunity because we don’t have so far to travel, but the lack of following distance not only increases the risk if the car ahead slows suddenly, it actually interferes with our observation – if we’re worried about running into the back of the car, then that’s what we focus on – and we end up watching its brake lights rather than the road ahead or even our mirrors. Riders who say “I don’t have time to take my eyes of the road and make a shoulder check before overtaking” are admitting they’re too close. We also have to move out first THEN accelerate if we’re too close behind – overtakes often become ‘swoops’ ending with excessive speed making it difficult to pull promptly back to the left.

You might read something like “moving up to the overtaking position is a difficult skill to learn – timing it right requires excellent observation and planning and anticipation too”. I actually wrote that in the previous version of this article, but being totally honest, this forwards / backwards business quickly becomes exhausting. If it was needed for one overtake, the chances are it’ll be needed for the next… and the next… and so on. And my old courier instinct to make life simple kicks in. If overtakes are that tricky, I probably won’t bother – at least, not till a simple opportunity comes along and I am pretty sure I DO will have an opportunity to pass. I may miss a few overtakes, but I am reducing my exposure to risk significantly.

Q So how do YOU plan an overtake from the following position?

A Typically, I’ll be looking for a straight after a right-hand bend where my following position behind the vehicle ahead will actually give me a good, clear view of both sides of the road – remember, I’m not just looking to see if something is coming the other way, but searching for junctions ahead which could be on either side of the road. If clear, I’ll turn from the final part of the corner straight onto the other side of the road and accelerate whilst the vehicle I’m passing is just exiting the curve. This means getting my rear observations and gear changing done in advance. Done right, the acceleration from the following position to the overtaking position and into the overtake is one smooth movement. We shouldn’t have to accelerate hard or brake hard to dip back in.

Q I find that by the time I’ve moved up to the following position to the overtaking position, the opportunity has gone

A This is why forward planning is so important.

Q I get impatient waiting for cars to overtake. I signalled, so why do they always pull out in front of me just as I want to go?

A Remember other vehicles (most cars and all trucks) have much less acceleration than we do, and will need a much bigger gap to pass, so as soon as such a gap appears it’s a good idea to be ready for the driver to go for the overtake. The average car driver has a lot less practice at overtaking, and will be focusing all his / her attention on the road ahead, so don’t expect your signal to be spotted. And if the car ahead has already signalled, don’t attempt to bully your way through by accelerating more rapidly. Collisions with vehicles ahead moving out to pass out are not uncommon, so be cautious.

Drivers are far more likely to make a mistake and do something dangerous for both of you if you are right on the back bumper. In particular do not harass learner drivers. In any case, hanging back and giving the driver ahead ‘first go’ is polite – dropping back makes it clear that we’re not intending to pass there and then, and that may help the driver ahead make a prompt decision. We may be able to follow through in the same gap, or even pass the overtaking car a moment later. And if the driver does have second thoughts and decide not to use the big gap after all, we can probably still pass ourselves – don’t forget rear observations in case someone behind has seen the big gap, and be ready with a horn warning in case of a last-second change-of-mind by the driver ahead.

Q On my RoSPA test, the things I was marked down for were:
1) changing gear mid overtake
2) following position too aggressive
3) overtook next to a left hand junction

A Hopefully by now you’ll have seen that because most overtaking takes place in a brief window of opportunity, we have to be absolutely prepared to go when that opportunity arises. If we are having to change gear mid-overtake, we clearly weren’t in the right gear to start with, and so we weren’t planning far enough ahead. We may have got away with it on that occasion, but on another overtake which doesn’t turn out as we might rue that missed acceleration. And we’ve already seen the problems of sitting too close to a slower vehicle, and the risks arising from overtaking near a junction.

Q So is any overtake necessary?

A If not overtaking means becoming part of a mobile road block, then the answer is a guarded yes. For example, if we cannot overtake a slow-moving tractor, then we’re adding the the hazard it’s creating, because other drivers will now have to overtake two vehicles, rather than just the tractor. And that puts us at additional risk. But once we are riding along in the general flow, then overtakes are ‘nice’ rather than ‘necessary’.

Q Anything else?

A However quick you are, there will be someone quicker. Mirrors and blind spot checks are essential. Riders DO get taken out by vehicles they haven’t seen catching them from behind. And if you’ve not got time for a blind spot check? You’re rushing the overtake.

Q So what’s a good system for overtaking?

A If we want to make a safe overtake, it’s all about doing it methodically. SEARCH, EVALUATE, EXECUTE. There are plenty of guides to safe [sic] overtaking out there, so this article focuses on understanding the risks. Here are four simple rules to remember:

ONE – just because you COULD, doesn’t mean you SHOULD. If our attitude is “if I didn’t overtake I might as well be in a car” then it’s the wrong attitude. Although ‘progress’ is often talked about as the result of advanced training, what we really should be doing is performing better risk assessments and making better risk management decisions.

TWO – overtaking is NICE, rarely NECESSARY. We should be looking at overtaking as a high risk activity, not somewhere to show off our technical skill. Skills should be used to build margins for error by asking “how could this go wrong?”

THREE – if we’re thinking of an overtake, then so is someone else. And that someone might be ahead or behind. We need to be able to change our plan on an instant.

FOUR – if we don’t KNOW, we don’t GO! A lot of overtakes that go wrong fail because the rider’s taken a chance. And it didn’t work out.

Q Aren’t we being too cautious? Everyone knows bikes overtake cars.

A But bikes are also ‘out of sight, out of mind’. Because we can use smaller gaps, most drivers won’t be considering an overtake, so the possibility that a bike will be passing won’t occur to them – we have to get into the habit of doing the other driver’s thinking for them.

Riding a bike is great fun, but there are few manoeuvres where speeds of vehicles are so high and the risks so high. It’s no consolation that the words on our tombstone read “I had right of way”.

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53. The five most important things I learned as a courier

I might argue that this article has aged better than a few formal training courses from the same era because it is grounded in exposure to risk rather than theory. These lessons were learned in the days before traction control, cornering ABS and driver-assist systems became commonplace, but the fundamentals have not changed. Modern technology may reduce the consequences of mistakes, yet it does nothing to improve anticipation, judgement or decision-making under pressure. I still see my time as a courier as spent in an informal lab testing theory against real-world hazard management. The common thread running through all five points is not speed, but control of space, attention and stress — the same factors that still separate riders who consistently get home safely from those who rely on luck.

The five most important things I learned as a courier

Some years back, I was challenged to put some tips together based on what I’d learned back in my despatching days. It didn’t take much head-scratching to come up with the following short list:

1) Learn to use the brakes hard, then stay in practice… the last emergency stop that most riders make before they find themselves in the middle of a crisis is the one in front of the examiner. That might be ten years ago, and a very bad time to discover we’ve forgotten how is in the middle of an emergency. Practice practice practice. Practice wet and dry. If you change bike, see how it responds on hard braking. If you change tyres, find out how much grip they have. If you change pads, bed them in, test them out and discover whether they respond the same way as the last lot. There can be surprising variation between batchers.

2) Learn when not to use the brakes… we’ll all experience an “OhmigodImgoingtodie” moment. Instinct is screaming at you “STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP”. But hitting the brakes hard stands the bike upright which may take us straight into the very situation we were trying to avoid.Very often our best route out of trouble is not stopping but changing direction – bikes are pretty small, can change direction quickly and fit thru small gaps, and lean much further than most riders can cope with. But to change direction, we need to understand HOW to steer (counter-steering is the answer), then to practice adding more and more steering input to generate a quicker and quicker change of direction. Practice is the only way we’ll learn this technique and just how much we can trust that front tyre (more than you might expect)

3) Learn to search… most road safety literature – the USA’s MSF course excepted – talks about ‘observation’. The problem is observation is passive. It implies we simply swing our gaze around till something interesting catches our attention. A few moments watching most riders and you’ll see they don’t actually look for anything in particular. They’re hoping their attention is drawn to hazards – the danger is that if they don’t see them until they are a real threat, they’ll suffer SURPRISE! and then survival reactions kick in – see the target fixation tip for more on this. So what we need to do is turn passive observation into a focused and active search. We need to know WHERE to look and WHY we’re looking for it. It’s no good knowing that side turnings are a place that must bike collisions happen but hoping we spot them, we have to search for them – we need to actively seek out road signs, gaps between parked cars, breaks in the lines of house roofs, white paint at the side of the road, dropped kerbs and so on. Searching to either side of our path helps us being taken by SURPRISE!

4) Hang back to make better progress… as a courier, I always wanted to get where I was going with the minimum of delay conversant with keeping the risks down. Most riders follow far too close, and then they don’t look any further ahead than the vehicle in front – next time you’re following another rider look to see when his or her brake lights come on – if it’s a moment after the car ahead, they’re watching that vehicle. Opening up a gap not only gives us a safer following distance and opens up a better view of the road ahead, it also frees our attention to start searching beyond the car ahead. And this is how a good courier will make progress. Rather than simply looking to overtake it, the courier’s planned where they’re going next too. When filtering, the courier will know when to hang back as the impatient riders overtake into a dead end or get stuck outside traffic turning right. Hanging back gets you further ahead mentally and physically.

5) Discover that slow is fast… too many riders think that being on a bike means they should be at the head of the queue. Ever heard anyone say “if I sat in the queue I might as well be in a car”? I have, regularly. But it’s not the right approach. Because they’re in a hurry, they’re stressed and prone to mistakes. And mistakes lead to spills. That’s no good to a courier because a bent bike means no earnings. And no earnings meant no food or rent money. There’s nothing wrong with using gaps where it’s sensible to use them but I would also slip back into the queue when it got too tricky or too risky to overtake or filter. My aim as a courier was always to flow unobtrusively through traffic, neither wedging myself into impossible gaps nor forcing drivers to slow down to let me through. It might have cost me a few seconds, even minutes, but being restrained and patient minimised stress and anxiety and helped me to stay relaxed. Being relaxed meant I could ride for long hours. And that meant the tortoise nearly always overtook the hare in the end.

Summing up: None of these lessons require you to ride for a living, or to ride fast. What courier work teaches is not aggression or risk-taking, but economy: economy of effort, economy of stress, and economy of mistakes. The aim is to arrive unruffled, unhurried and upright, time after time. Riders who chase gaps, sit on bumpers and ride with a constant sense of urgency often believe they are making progress, but in reality they are burning attention and increasing risk. The courier mindset is the opposite. Control your speed, create space, stay relaxed and plan ahead, and you will usually find that you arrive sooner — and far more consistently — than riders who mistake haste for skill.

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52. The Lurker, the Drifter and the Trimmer

These three road users have not disappeared, even in an era of driver-assist technology. Modern cars may have cameras, sensors and warning systems, but they do not change human behaviour, and in some cases they encourage complacency. The key lesson remains the same: it is not the vehicle that creates risk, but predictable patterns of human behaviour. If there was a major omission, it was that I failed to acknowledge that these behaviours are not confined to car drivers. Motorcyclists can lurk in blind spots, drift between lanes without clear signals, or trim corners and roundabouts just as readily. Recognising these traits in ourselves is as important as spotting them in others, because the habits we tolerate in our own riding are often the ones that place us at greatest risk.

The Lurker, the Drifter and the Trimmer

Every now and again someone sets me a challenge. On this occasion it was to find three types of driver that riders need to keep their eyes open for. Of course, the article actually focuses on three drivers OR riders to on the be alert for. Yes, bikers are just as guilty of these thoughtless bits of riding as car drivers!

The Lurker finds places to hide, concealed spots from which he can leap out and surprise us. If there’s a truck coming the other way is there a lurker behind it? He’ll be right up the tailgate where we can’t see him, and he’ll pop out like a Jack-in-the-box. Our response? Move left, gain some buffer space and a better view. What about that side turning? The Lurker will sit too far back where we can’t see him and he can’t see us, and he’ll lunge forward. Move away, to the right, to gain clearance and a better view. If there are bends ahead with blind areas, then the Lurker will hug the hedge and appear just when we think the road is clear.

The Drifter is a different animal. He expects us to devine his intentions by telepathy. On a multiple lane road, he’ll change lanes by sliding slowly from one to the other, oblivious of traffic, no looks, no signals. Avoid the Drifter by sitting staggered in the adjacent lane, rather than alongside the other vehicle. Keep an eye open for movement, and we mustn’t for a moment assume that the Drifter knows we’re there. The Drifter is a hazard at side roads. He’ll turn across our path oh so slowly. And if he’s going our way, then having blocked our path, he slowly accumulate pace rather than accelerate to match the speed of the traffic flow. Back off and be prepared to match to his. Watch out for the Drifter behind. Keep an eye on the mirrors if he’s following. When we ride into a lower limit and decelerate, the Drifter won’t change his speed, not until he’s trying to ride pillion. Use the brakes to slow so there’s a warning light, and use them very lightly too – that way we’ll only slow down gradually.

The Trimmer thinks that using a bit of our side of the road is perfectly fine because it makes life a bit easier for him, it cuts down the effort needed to steer accurately around bends, roundabouts and into and out of junctions. Watch for the Trimmer coming the other way on left-handers. He’ll cut across the central line so we have to be prepared to tighten our own line by moving to the nearside. Faced with a left-turn into a side road, the Trimmer will swing wide to the right to make the manoeuvre easy, even though we’re coming the other way. If we’re in the side turning, the Trimmer will take a lazy line turning in on our side of the road by cutting across the centre line. The Trimmer will straight-line roundabouts. Even when traffic is busy, he’ll take the straight-line short cut when going straight ahead. Our defence is not to try to overtake across the island.

If you want to learn more about understanding how to manage the risks of riding on the road, why not check out the website and find out about Survival Skills advanced motorcycle training courses?

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51. Target Fixation – Question and Answer

Although this article was first written back in the early 2000s, the underlying problem it describes has not gone away. Modern explanations would frame this as stress physiology rather than evolutionary mismatch. Target fixation is now better understood as a stress-driven narrowing of attention that degrades both decision-making and fine motor control, rather than a simple bad habit. Modern bikes with ABS and traction control reduce the consequences of panic inputs, but they do not prevent the psychological trigger that causes riders to freeze, stare, and steer poorly. The solutions remain fundamentally the same: earlier anticipation to avoid surprise, deliberate visual strategies to direct the bike where you want it to go, and sufficient confidence in braking and steering to prevent fear from taking over. Modern coaching combines teaching riders to notice physiological cues (holding breath, locked arms, fixed gaze) with a more deliberate visual drill that replaces simply “looking away” with a more proactive visual targeting to focus on the exit.

Target Fixation – Question and Answer

If you’ve read Keith Code’s ‘Twist of the Wrist’ books, you may recall he talked about ‘Survival Reactions’. He described these as the unwanted but instinctive attempts to preserve us from harm, that work against our learned responses. For example, we may have spent hours working on a nice progressive squeeze when practicing emergency stops, but in a real-life crisis, it’s hard not to revert to a sudden grab and stamp on the brakes. I crashed precisely this way several times till I got the hang of it. It’s not an accident modern machines are fitted with ABS. Panic grabs can be worked on, but rather more subtle is another of Code’s Survival Reactions. It’s called ‘target fixation’. If you want to know more, read on.

Q I’ve heard quite a lot about something called target fixation, but I don’t know what it is?

A Target fixation is the state we find ourselves in when we can’t drag our attention away from a hazard on the road. It nearly always occurs when the there’s a threat of personal harm, maybe from hitting something hard like a car, from running out of road in a corner or because we’ve just spotted a patch of diesel – because it’s a threat, we look at it.

Q But it seems obvious to me that if there is something dangerous in front of you, you ought to look at it?

A Obvious – but wrong! Right from basic training we tell trainees “you go where you look” because that’s how we get there. It works… except in an emergency.

Q Alright, so the basic theory is to look where you want to go, but why does this work? We can’t steer the bike with our eyes so what do you mean?

A Given half a chance, any hazard will grab the whole of our attention, and instead of finding a way out of trouble we freeze and go deeper into it. Essentially this is a passive reaction to a hazard. We need to find a safe route past the threat so instead of having our attention drawn towards what we don’t want to do (hitting the car, running out of road mid-corner or losing control on the diesel) we need to snap our focus to the way OUT of trouble instead. Is there a route past the car? Can we look around the bend and lean over more to get there? Is there clear tarmac past the diesel? We need to recognise the threat of target fixation if we to find a way out of trouble.

Q I still don’t get this. Surely it’s easy to avoid a hazard?

A That’s the theory in a lot of road safety literature. In practice it ignores the way the brain works under stress. As I mentioned, Code identified target fixation as an instinctive reaction to danger which overwhelms rational decision-making. After the event – usually when we’ve got over the adrenalin of the scare – it’s blindingly obvious we were target-fixated, but mid-emergency it’s incredibly difficult to overcome because the brain is hardwired to avoid danger. Unfortunately, these reactions evolved several million years before anyone invented a motorcycle. That’s why they are completely inappropriate.

Q OK, so I know I shouldn’t, but I still can’t seem to do anything else but look at what I’m going to hit?

A Whilst advice to look away from the hazard is valid, we actually need to prevent the instinctive target fixation in the first place. And to do that we need to understand something about the trigger – ie. what state of mind sets off the survival reaction in the first place. At the most basic level it’s fear of being hurt. So the moment we start to think that our space is being squeezed by other road users, that we’re running out of room in the corner, or that we can’t avoid the slippery surface, we’re setting up the conditions in which survival reactions and target fixation will kick in.

Q So I need to improve my observation?

A Sort of… because the earlier we see a hazards, the less that can take us by SURPRISE! And it turns out that it’s SURPRISE! that’s the trigger for these survival reactions. As soon as the situation ahead develops in a way that we weren’t expecting, SURPRISE! kicks in, and then we’re at risk of triggering the survival reactions.

So observation is part of it – we need to be aware of what’s around us – road layout, road surface, other vehicles and so on – but we also need to know what we CAN’T SEE. And then we need to ask the “What if…?” question to anticipate what might happen next. Motorcycle Roadcraft says we need to consider “what we can reasonably expect to happen”. In fact this isn’t enough. We need to expect the UNREASONABLE. If we only ever expect what usually happens, we’ll be caught out by what doesn’t normally happen. It’s too late to think when the car pulls out, because we will trip those survival reactions. We have to be holding in our heads a plan to deal with that car long before it starts to move. Similarly, we need to anticipate that the easy-looking corner ahead will tighten up or that the far side of the roundabout has a diesel slick over it. It’s running through “What if…?” scenarios before they become real that prevents SURPRISE!

Q So I’m scanning and planning. But running into corners I still freeze on occasion. What else can help?

A A bit of lateral thinking. You wouldn’t be freezing if you were confident in your abilities to get out of trouble. So going back to basics, everything we do on a bike involves either a change of speed or a change of direction. If we aren’t confident with steering, braking and to a lesser extent accelerating, any threatening situation that relies on these skills to get out of trouble is going to scare us. For example, on my Survival Skills Performance courses I am regularly helping riders who find themselves struggling with cornering. What I usually find is either a lack of confidence with the steering or a lack of confidence with the brakes. Sometimes both.

Q So how does that cause me to freeze?

A Simple. On the courses I run, it turns out that the rider isn’t really going too fast, but just thinks he/she is! And because the rider thinks “I’m going too fast” it kicks off the target fixation and frozen steering which is another survival reaction. So having scared themselves, on the next bend not only are they very slow, but they turn into the corner far too early, which leads them to run wide on the exit to the bend, setting off target fixation. So it all becomes a bit of a vicious circle. It goes wrong because you expect it to go wrong.

Q OK, I believe you. So what can I do to improve my cornering now?

A Not surprisingly my first suggestion would be get some training. On my cornering courses, as soon as we work on more positive use of the brakes and steering to get the speed off quickly and to change direction rapidly, the problem usually vanishes. Knowing that the bike can be slowed and steered around the bend removes the trigger for the target fixation.

If you can’t get yourself onto a Survival Skills training course, then my advice would be to work on braking. You should know how to do a decent emergency stop. Practice that skills off-road till you can do really good ones, and then just apply the same basic approach (without pulling up quite so hard) on the road. Learning to sort your approach speed on corners is the only way you’ll learn how to judge your braking. You don’t have to brake harshly, just avoid rolling off and coasting into the bend. Get moderately competent at that and itt’ll take away the fear of running in too fast. Next learn all about counter-steering, then go and practice quick steering exercises. Start off-road with some swerves, then take what you’ve learned out on the road and get confident at making rapid changes of direction in bends. In both cases, start slow and cautiously, then build up the speed as your control gets better. But if you really don’t know how to do a safe emergency stop, get some professional help!

And if you really want to fix cornering, find out about the Survival Skills ‘Point and Squirt’ approach to cornering, which is all about going in deep, and making a slower but more rapid change of direction when we can see where the road goes next, before accelerating upright out of the corner. Having the reference points that I teach – ‘landmarks’ if you like – means you always know exactly what you’ve going to be doing and where you’ve going to do it. So it’s a positive approach, where we ‘seize the corner by the scruff of the neck and shake it out the way we want to to go’ approach, rather than a passive, “where is the corner taking me?” response.

Q How do I know I’m getting it right?

A Simple – apart from not scaring yourself so often, you’ll find you’re more relaxed on the bike.

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50. A time to live…

Not long ago, I heard a rider raving about his new bike. His LED lights enabled him to ride faster at night, his high-tech semi-active suspension allowed him to corner faster, and his cornering ABS would sort out the problems… at least, that’s what he believed. The problem he hadn’t spotted is that no-one had upgraded the ‘wetware’ behind the bars. Despite these undoubted advances, a major cause of serious motorcycle crashes remains late perception — by the rider, by other road users, or both. This article’s central thesis is that time is a fundamental survival currency, and the more of it we have, the better-off we are. It’s just is as valid today as it ever was. Nothing here has yet been invalidated by technology.

A time to live…

Have you ever been floored by an unexpected question? I have. I’m not a quick thinker on my feet. It’s why I’m not great at interviews – I like to have someone give me a question and then have time to think about the answer. The same applies out on the road. Putting ourselves in a position where we need to come up with a quick response to an unexpected question, a riding problem that requires a rapid solution causes many of us difficulties. Not surprisingly, what happens unexpectedly is a prime cause of crashes.

So let’s take some time to think about a question for you. What do:

  1. “See and be seen”

  2. “Only a fool breaks the two second rule”

  3. “Position wide for view in a bend”

…all have in common?

The first is straight from basic training, the second is from a road safety campaign, and the third is a general axiom any advanced rider will recognise.

Answer – they all give us time on the road.

What is so important about time? It’s a window of opportunity to see potential danger, and offers time to think what to do. The earlier we spot danger and the more time we have, the more likely we are to make the right decision.

Given enough time, we’d never over-cook it in bends, never be surprised when someone pulls out in front of us, never be caught out by a poor surface.

So gaining space and time is not a luxury, it’s a necessity.

But it doesn’t just work for the rider. We have to be in the right place to seen by other road users so that they too have time to understand what they are seeing, and how they can respond to our presence.

And that’s where ‘See and Be Seen’ must be applied. It’s something we try to hammer into new riders on basic training courses, but so often experienced riders – even those with post-test credentials – seem to have forgotten the basic lessons, and ride as if they are unaware of the risks posed by blind areas and ‘Surprise Horizons’ which may conceal a vehicle. Unless we put ourselves in a place where we CAN be seen, then there’s little chance that driver will consider the possibility that there might be a motorcycle approaching. And when we appear and SURPRISE! other drivers and they are unlikely to react predictably!

An awful lot of “Sorry Mate, I didn’t see you” SMIDSY collisions happen when the biker is hidden in traffic or behind road furniture, or behind the car’s own bodywork. Some studies have estimated it’s around one in five of all ‘Looked But Failed To See’ collisions.

Our lack of width on two wheel is both a disadvantage (it makes us harder to spot) and an advantage (it allows us to change position).

Use the one to compensate for the other. See and be seen. Find some time and use it to live.

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49. The ‘Point and Squirt’ approach to corners

This particular article has its origins in some heated debates that took place online on my regular bike forum. The core problem it addresses — riders committing to a corner before they can see their way out — is still one of the most common precursors to serious road crashes. The debates concerned the difference between what some called ‘conventional’ cornering lines, and what I have been teaching since 1997 as the ‘Point and Squirt’ technique. Point and Squirt has its origins in a series of articles published in the 1980s in the old Motorcycle Sport and Leisure magazine, one of which showed some cornering diagrams which featured a ‘late apex’ line. I’d long since realised that running wide on the exit to bend was best avoided and the late apex line got me thinking, and also experimenting – not just with late apex, but with a quicker steering input to make the best use of it. That was something that went pretty much against the grain at the time. It was usually stated that machine inputs should be smooth. The trouble was, smooth was usually interpreted as ‘slow’. But the fact is that quick steering inputs can be also smooth. It’s all in the timing. I developed over many despatching miles, and when I started training it was a natural way to cover cornering. Point and Squirt remains relevant precisely because it is based on vision, timing, and options. The fact that modern bikes accelerate harder, steer faster, and forgive more errors only increases the importance of when riders choose to turn and apply throttle.

The ‘Point and Squirt’ approach to corners

Let’s go back to basics. Riding a bike requires us to be able to:

  • change speed

  • change direction

That’s all that the machine itself can do. Of course, there are other issues:

  • managing stability

  • managing risk

But it’s our ability to change speed and direction first and foremost that allows us to manage stability and risk in a bend. So what I teach on my Survival Skills Performance cornering courses is all about getting these basics right.

Here’s the first point to consider. It’s easy to get a motorcycle to either change direction OR change speed. We can mix-and-match, but it’s not so easy. So whenever we can, it makes sense to separate the braking and acceleration forces from cornering forces. On the approach to a corner we can achieve that quite simply – we get all deceleration, whether by closing the throttle or braking, completed upright before the corner. Once we’ve finished steering – which is the moment the bike is clear of the curve and upright again – we accelerate positively. So it’s this late turn-in and the upright acceleration which gives the technique the ‘Point and Squirt’ name.

What we don’t try to do is ‘chase the Limit Point’ by accelerating whilst still leaned over in the curve, as it says in ‘Motorcycle Roadcraft’. With Point and Squirt, when the machine is leaned over, it’s ONLY having to deal with the cornering forces.

Now, here’s the second point. To minimise risk, we need to respond to hazards, whether that’s the shape of the corner itself, the presence of other vehicles and places they could turn, the state of the road surface and possible stability problems, or other issues such pedestrians and animals. To manage the risks posed by those hazards, we have to SEE them – or at least realise that we CANNOT see them! So until a mid-corner hazard forces a change of position on us, our line around the bend is dictated by what we can see. The line that gives us the best view of the road ahead is what I call the ‘Vision Line’, and we follow it from the moment we enter the corner to the point at which we can clearly see where the road goes next. To maintain the view, we usually position ourselves towards the outer edge of our lane, just so long as we don’t put ourselves at risk from oncoming vehicles (on a left-hander in the UK) or blind entrances or debris at the edge of the road (on a right-hander).

And thirdly. We need to know where we are in a bend – we need some kind of road map. And this is where I borrow from track technique – we can define ANY corner in terms of:

  1. the ‘entry’ – where the bend forces us to steer or run off the road

  2. the ‘turn-in point’ – where we can see the exit

  3. the ‘exit’ – where we’re upright again and pointed to where we want to go next.

Once we realise that committing ourselves to turning-in to a corner when we can’t see our way out of the bend is liable to lead to us running wide later in the corner, then it’s fairly obvious that we should only turn-in and attempt to widen the line around the final part of the corner when the view opens up for good. It’s this view of the way out – the exit – that locates the ‘turn-in point’. Using a late ‘turn-in point’ minimises the risk of turning in too early, and running wide later in the bend.

Why the controversy? Firstly, I was told “it’s in Roadcraft already”. It isn’t, although there are common elements such as the wide ‘vision line’. But the Point and Squirt approach emphasises the advantage of separating from the steering the inputs that make the bike do a ‘rocking horse’ on the brakes or under power. It also emphasises the late turn-in, late apex line. And it requires a moderately quick steering to make the direction change when the view opens up. Whilst it’s always possible to interpret ‘Roadcraft’ that way by reading between the lines, none of these elements are made explicitly clear as they are in Point and Squirt.

A more negative view was that Point and Squirt is a racing technique. Because I was talking about braking rather than simply rolling off the throttle, it was assumed that it must be all about dashing up to the corner before braking late and hard, and that the late ‘turn-in’ would result in the rider banging the bike over on its side before firing it out with a handful of throttle and wheelspin. Clearly that’s NOT what I’m suggesting. Of course, if we want to, we could brake later and harder, then maximise acceleration out of the turn, but getting through the corner quicker isn’t the raison d’etre. A moment’s thought will show that because Point and Squirt is about views and lines, it works just as well with a police-style ‘acceleration sense’ approach to riding.

What else? “Point and Squirt line’s ‘late apex’ requires a big steering input which could destabilise the bike.” It’s true that Point and Squirt gets the bike turned over a shorter distance, but if we’re travelling a little more slowly, it’s not a problem – in any case, there’s nearly always plenty of grip available to steer the machine, mid-corner it’s braking and accelerating grip that’s in short supply. We also get the bike upright sooner which is a benefit.

And “by taking a very late apex and making a more rapid change of direction, a rider is prevented from reducing the severity of a bend by ‘maximising the radius of the corner’.” Whilst in theory, this wider line ‘works the tyres less hard’ – that’s the very explanation given in a West Midlands BikeSafe video, the reality of what riders do with a wider line is very different. We all use it to carry more speed, not lean over less. The benefits are non-existant! What was really ironic in the West Midlands video was that having explained the benefits of the maximum radius line, the police rider then demonstrated a sequence of perfect Point and Squirt lines!

A more reasonable response was that it doesn’t apply to all corners. I’d totally agree, but I’d point out that it all comes back to the view. If we can see clearly right through the corner from one end to the other, then there’s no need to delay our ‘turn-in’, and we can indeed open out our line to ‘maximise the radius’ but in the UK at least, it’s rare to find a corner where there is nothing blocking our line of sight. Turning in too early means we’re relying on guesswork to figure out where the road goes. Even then, the wide exit means our steering must be spot on. If we get it wrong, we’ll run wide. What defines Point and Squirt is that delayed ‘turn-in’ which is controlled entirely by our view of the way out of the bend. That means it applies to any corner where we can’t see the exit on the way in, which happens to be most bends in the UK. And it’s also an excellent way to negotiate mountain hairpins where running wide could be catastrophic.

Nothing about Point and Squirt is particularly unique – you can find elements of it in various different books. What is unique is that way it’s all put together, and how it pulls all aspects of cornering – assessment of the bend, managing risk along the way, choosing a line and timing machine inputs – into one neat and self-contained system.

Funnily enough, right in the middle of the big online debate Andy Ibbott used his MCN column to explain how to “Separate throttle and steering and never run wide again”. Covering precisely the theory behind Point and Squirt, he stated:

“We need to get the bike pointing in the right direction before applying the throttle”.

My point exactly!

 

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48. Ever gone into a corner too hot and had it tighten up on you?

Over the years I’ve been a rider coach, I’ve done a lot of thinking about my riding, and I’ve realised I’m both a realist — that is, someone who accepts the world as it is, not as it should be — AND a pragmatist — someone who’s actions are based on what’s been shown to work. Running wide on blind bends remains a leading cause of serious motorcycle crashes, and no amount of technology can compensate for horribly misjudged entry speed or unseen and dramatic changes in radius. In fact, improved grip and electronic safety nets may encourage some riders to commit harder and later, increasing the risk when the road tightens unexpectedly. Superior tyres, better suspension and rider aids do not — and this is crucial — remove the geometric reality of running out of road. The solution is still the same as it has always been: conservative entry, delayed commitment, and a willingness to revise the plan mid-corner without panic.

Ever gone into a corner too hot and had it tighten up on you?

Of course you have – you’d be a very lucky rider if you hadn’t. I’m a realist. That’s why my training courses are called Survival Skills. Remember, any bend can get worse out of sight and this is a classic biking problem – the ever-tightening corner that just seems to go on and on. Unfortunately, by the time we spot the bend is tightening, it’s often too late, and we’re going to run wide. If we run wide on a right-hander (in the UK) we will run off the road. It’s a common bike crash. But if we run wide on a left-hander we’ll cross the centre line. If we’re lucky, nothing’s coming the other way and we get away with it. But if we’re unlucky, we meet a Scania coming the other way. Running wide into oncoming traffic is a major killer on roads not just in the UK but anywhere in the world. And it’s worth mentioning that when we hear about head-on collisions between a bike and a car on a bend, whilst riders often assume it must have been the car driver on the wrong side, it’s nearly always the rider who’s crossed the line.

I’ve yet to meet the rider who doesn’t make mistakes, so whilst it’s easy to say it’s a mistake we shouldn’t make and that a good rider would avoid getting sucked into a corner too fast, the fact is that it’s often not so easy to spot a decreasing radius corner until it begins to tighten.

‘Limit Point’ analysis is no use if the bend tightens out of sight – we’ll already have set our speed based on what we could see before we commenced leaning. And one technique I would advise anyone on two wheels to avoid is what’s sometimes called ‘chasing the Limit Point’. It’s normally explained with a statement such as:

“The Limit Point moves away from you, telling you that the corner is beginning to open out, so you can get back on the gas and chase the limit point out of the corner.”

‘Beginning to open out’. Think about that for a moment. What happens if we’re NOT seeing the end of the bend? What if the bend suddenly tightens up again? Now we’ve been conned into accelerating towards a second apex in a corner that’s not over yet. In fact, hardly any of our rural bends are actually smooth corners, they are nearly all complex shapes with multiple radii in a single bend. So rather than try to add speed as the bend appears to open up, ask yourself “how could this go wrong?” If we can imagine a decreasing radius, downhill, off-camber corner with a wet surface that’s covered in loose gravel lies just beyond the point where the bend appears to open out, it’s a good incentive to delay acceleration until we really can see our way out of the corner and down the next stretch of road which has completely straightened out. This will avoid the “OhMiGod the corner’s tightened up again and gone downhill and it’s off-camber and… etc” problem!

In fact, the best clues to dodgy corners are nearly always the road signs, specifically the red and white triangular warning signs. They are placed to warn us about hazards that have caught others out and are often out of sight. So the moment we spot a bend warning sign, particularly when it’s backed up with a SLOW marking, it might be a good idea to go into a corner a little slower than the Limit Point might have suggested. And if we’re lucky enough to glimpse a black and white chevrons sign, that’s almost certainly where the corner gets awkward.

It may be the Worst Case Scenario, but that’s what we have to plan for on every single blind bend. And we do that not by setting our speed to the ‘distance we can see clear and stop’, but by using the Limit Point to set our entry speed considerably lower, so we have a built-in safety margin in case the bend gets worse just out of sight. A cautious entry speed allows us to deal with a tightening bend by adding leaning angle, rather than hitting the brakes immediately. Apply the Survival Skills approach to riding once again – anticipate where things will go wrong, and don’t assume you’ve got everything right until you’re upright and accelerating away again.

But even a cautious rider, looking for trouble in bends still won’t get every bend right, and so right now we’re looking at a bend that needs some quick revisions to our line and lean. What are our options for getting out of trouble mid-corner?

Here’s our first option, which often mentioned on post-test training courses. Stand the bike up, brake in a straight line and then lay it over again. Hmm. It needs some room, even though once upright we can brake very hard indeed. And if we’re already on a wide line around the outside of the lane, we’re don’t have the space to straighten up – we’re straight off the road. So there’s a variation on the theme where we actually turn TIGHTER before we stand the bike up – this way we can maximise the straight line braking distance. But unless we absolutely have to lose a huge amount of speed – or stop – then if we have the room to lean in, pick up, brake hard, and lean in again, we probably could have made the bend in the first place. And if we don’t get the bike slowed enough…

…we’ve just guaranteed we’re going to run out of road. So although I’ve mentioned this option first, it’s really to move it to the back burner, behind some alternatives.

So are there better options? I mentioned above that we if we’re going to maximise the space for upright braking, we need to tip into the corner first. If we have this additional lean angle in hand AND we’re confident enough to use it, we could just keep the throttle open – which stabilises the bike – and keep the bigger lean angle going right through the rest of the corner. This should deal with a corner that tightens just the once, onto a sharper radius, so long as we didn’t make the mistake of turning-in too early.

But what about a corner that progressively tightens up? We can only increase the lean angle so much before we run out of ground clearance. So we may have to exploit some basic cornering physics – a motorcycle cornering at the same angle will turn on a tighter line if we reduce the speed. These are techniques we explore on the Survival Skills Performance: SPORT two-day advanced riding course.

So how do we reduce speed to turn on a tighter line?

The simplest solution is shut the throttle. The bike WILL slow, and it WILL turn tighter (provided we’re not going downhill at the same time). Don’t slam it shut as that will destabilise the bike, but roll off smoothly – this allows us to cope with the change in steering geometry. We can help out a little by applying the rear brake, but if we’re already generating engine braking, there’s often not a lot the rear brake can achieve before the rear wheel starts to lock, triggering the ABS or skidding on a non-ABS machine.

So if we need to tighten the line even more, then there’s only one way left – and that’s to apply both brakes together. The weird thing is that we see racers braking into bends all the time, yet the technique is frowned on in bike training. It’s true there’s a risk, because sudden applications of the front brake mid-corner can make the bike sit up and go straight on – which isn’t what we want particularly on a left-hander – or if we’re really hamfisted, we can even lock the front wheel.

So the point I’ll make here is that most the crashes happen as a result of a panic-grab, when the rider is surprised by events, rather than through a controlled application. Braking into bends is actually surprisingly easy just so long as we ease the front brake on to allow us to adapt to the geometry change. Here’s the big plus. With the brakes on, we’ll lose speed very rapidly – and as the speed comes down, our line tightens equally rapidly. So we rarely need to brake hard to adapt to a decreasing radius corner, just smoothly and progressively.

So to sum up, if we enter corners mentally blind to the possibility of them getting tighter out of sight, that’s when we’re most likely to arrive too fast AND to make the panic-grab at the front brake that causes all the problems. But if we are more pragmatic and anticipate that what’s out of sight could get awkward, then we’re far more likely to respond in a controlled way to a decreasing radius corner when we do get it wrong.

By admitting we can make mistakes in judging the radius of a corner, we have taken a huge step to improving our risk management and margins for error out on nice twisty roads.

Our first problem is how to read the radius – the tightness if you like – of a corner from far enough back to get our speed right. One of the techniques you may have heard about is to use the ‘Limit Point’ (sometimes called the ‘vanishing point’ or ‘distance point’ – it’s all the same thing). The idea is that we enter a bend at a speed that allows us to stop before the road vanishes around the corner.

But there are three problems:

  1. at any one moment, the Limit Point is just a single snapshot of what we can actually see. It cannot give us any clear idea how the bend ahead might change – nor can it warn us of other hazards. If we wait till we have a series of these snapshots suggesting the bend is tightening up, it’s likely we’ll react far too late to the decreasing radius.

  2. focusing too much on the Limit Point actually pulls our attention down and away from the longer view where we look BEYOND the point at which the road itself vanishes and pick up clues about the road’s future path.

  3. if the bend does tighten, we may have to brake mid-corner – something usually frowned upon, but actually an essential skill. How’s your mid-corner braking technique?

If we rely too much on the Limit Point to make an educated guess about where the road goes beyond what we can actually see, it’s a bit like making a weather forecast – the further ahead we forecast, the less accurate it’s going to be. Do we really want to commit ourselves into a corner on what is effectively a guess? I don’t think so.

To overcome this problem, advanced rider training often focuses on getting riders to pick eyes up and look further round the corner – we may see the back of the hedge on the inside of the corner, buildings, telegraph poles, trees, even the tops of approaching vehicles and the speed they enter and leave the bend. Clues are just that – they’re not definite knowledge, but they can help us make an informed guess about what’s beyond the Limit Point.

But in my experience hardly any trainers mention an obvious clue – road signs! If the council have gone to the trouble of sticking up a triangular warning sign, painting SLOW on the road and putting a black and white chevron ahead of you, don’t you think the road engineer is trying to tell you something? And that you should pay them some heed? They don’t just tell us the direction of the bend, they tell us that other people have been caught out in the past. And the more effort that’s been made, the more dramatic the change of speed or direction is likely to be.

Once we’ve realised that, then instead of trying to figure out how fast we can go into a bend, we need to recalibrate and instead think about what might make us slow down (or even stop).

OK, so all that might help us avoid running into a decreasing radius turn too fast, but I’m a realist. We don’t get every bend right, and so we need ways of getting out of trouble mid-corner. That’s why my training courses are called Survival Skills.

So how do we do this? Well, if we’ve followed the advice above, we can go in, increasing our lean angle to follow the tightening bend. But what if we’re running out of lean?

Then there’s only one solution – to lose some speed, because slowing down means the bike automatically turns tighter at the same lean angle. So how do we slow down?

If we’re lucky, we can simply ease the throttle shut in a smooth roll-off. . If we’re not so lucky we are going to have to brake. The usual suggestion is to use only the rear brake. Unfortunately, if the throttle’s already shut, then we’re not going to scrub off a lot of speed this way – try too hard and there’s a real risk locking the rear wheel. And that’s disconcerting even with ABS.

So that leaves both brakes together. So one suggestion is to pick the bike up, brake in a straight line and lay it over again. Errr, yes. Well, if you have the room that required, you could have made the bend in the first place.

Another option is to brake with the rear. Unfortunately, you can’t scrub off a lot of speed this way, you still compromise stability and there is always the risk of locking the rear, and if you aren’t careful, having the rear overtake the front.

So what about the front brake? This is where trail braking becomes important. So long as we’re not already sliding the front tyre, there’s some braking grip available. So long as we apply the brake gently and progressively, we can exploit it to add to our rate of deceleration.

But of course, it’s always better NOT to need technically-demanding techniques like this, and a better answer is not to be able to “get out of trouble” but to use an approach to riding that tends to keep us out of trouble. And that’s why the ‘slow down in, cautiously round, fast out’ approach to bends pays off. If we enter a corner with lean angle to spare, we have the option to start using it and to slow down at the same time if things turn bad later on. But if we’re cornering close to the limit, well, there’s not much of a margin for error, is there? .

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47. Sorry Mate, I didn’t see you – an analysis of SMIDSY accidents

The first version of this article was written over two decades ago, but has its roots back in the mid-90s when I first got online, and discovered that the SMIDSY was far from unique to the UK. That was very relevant when, in 1995, I first got involved in rider training back in 1995 and discovered the sum of advice to new riders was to wear hi-vis and ride with their lights on “so drivers would see them”. What my research showed was that SMIDSY collisions are primarily not a driver ‘failure to look’, and much more of a human visual-perception problem. Whilst I found that research into these collisions had been going on since the 1960s and really took off in the 70s, not much of the science had made its way into road safety or motorcycle safety. When I first delivered the ‘Science Of Being Seen’ presentation in 2012, it was met with a lot of scepticism. But since then, much of what I describe here has since been validated time and again by academics and by independent commentators including FortNine.

The conceptual framework — looked but could not see, looked but failed to see, and looked, saw and misjudged — remains one of the clearest and most practically useful ways of understanding junction collisions. The explanations of motion camouflage, contrast issues, saccadic masking, workload, and size-arrival effect are all still scientifically sound and are now increasingly accepted within professional driver and rider training, and these terms are now being referred to by ordinary riders on a regular basis. The article has not been undermined by time; rather, the rest of the motorcycling world has been slowly catching up with it.

Sorry Mate, I didn’t see you – an analysis of SMIDSY accidents

When I updated these articles in the summer and autumn of 2019, I realised that in some ways, this article is probably the most important I’ve ever written. It was written in response to the frequent and strident claims that ‘drivers don’t look properly for bikes’. And it was in this very article – written in the early 2000s – that for the first time I put down in reasonably clear terms an explanation of the need for riders to understand the visual perception issues behind the ‘Sorry Mate, I Didn’t See You’ collision. Historically, the rider has always blamed the driver for not looking properly, but my background of SMIDSY-dodging as a London-based courier plus my increasing experience as an instructor made me wonder why the advice to drivers to “look harder for bikes” and the advice to bikers to “make yourself more conspicuous” wasn’t working. The failure of the ‘Think Bike’ and ‘Ride Bright’ advice – which dates back to the mid-1970s – became very evident when I began to investigate collision statistics – the proportion of junction collisions had remained unchanged from the early 70s (when no-one used day riding lights or hi-vis clothing) to the time when I wrote the article in 2003.

I’d already read a lot of research papers as a way of developing my training courses and had discovered quite a lot about motorcycle conspicuity and the reasons for car / bike collisions when I was invited to work with Kent Fire and Rescue Service on the ‘Biker Down’ course.

So when, in 2011-12, I created the ‘Science Of Being Seen’ presentation (or SOBS for short) it was this research which formed the basis of the presentation. Perhaps not surprisingly given that motorcyclists have seen a stream of road safety campaigns all aimed at drivers telling them to ‘look harder’ or ‘look twice’ for bikes, we have tended to believe that the reason for the SMIDSY collision is because “drivers don’t look properly”. SOBS shows that’s not true, and explains the real issues facing the driver – ‘looked but COULD NOT see’, ‘looked but FAILED to see’ and looked, saw and MISJUDGED’ errors – why the conspicuity strategies we motorcyclists have employed – hi-vis clothing and day-riding lights (DRLs) have failed to have any meaningful impact on collision statistics. It’s why I suggest that it’s down to us riders to take responsibility for evading the driver’s error when it happens.

Since then, I’ve continued to investigate the problem of motorcycle perception and visual perception, and the presentation which I continue to deliver at nearly every Biker Down in Kent, has been continually updated with the very latest research. And in terms of collisions, nothing much has changed since, as it happens.

But this article is where it all started, getting on for two decades ago. So although I’ve annotated the article in places, the basic text is left unchanged apart from a couple of minor typos I’ve corrected. And if you want to read the very latest thinking, then head for the SOBS website at www.scienceofbeingseen.wordpress.com.

Most bike riders these days also have a car licence and drive a car, usually as their main means of transport, using the bike for fun or sometimes commuting. Yet to listen to a lot of the discussion that goes on about “witless cagers” you’d be hard-pressed to realise that.

But given that we nearly all drive cars, and our old friend the SMIDSY accident still accounts for the majority of car/bike accidents aren’t we likely at some time or another to have made exactly the mistake that we pillory drivers for? How many of us when on four wheels have done the unthinkable and pulled out on a bike?

As one honest motorcycle forum contributor admitted [after a near-miss in his car]: “Now if I can do this, what chance for the poor booger in his Mondeo who has got no idea of what we are about… what still bugs me is that, if they’d run into me, I’d have heard myself saying, in total honesty, as I helped sweep them to the side of the road: ‘Sorry mate, I didn’t see you'”.

I’ve mentioned before that I nearly took out an R1 when they first came out… poor gloomy light, twin headlights apparently a long way off against a background of trees, me wanting to pull across the path of the oncoming vehicle and turn right, so all I needed was a gap sufficient to make it to the other lane.

Seemed safe enough so I started to go…

…but something wasn’t quite right about the movement of the lights across the dark background and I hit the brakes again, stopping about halfway across the line.

Just as well I did! By the time I’d refocused on the oncoming vehicle, it was obviously a bike, moving at a fair lick, and MUCH, much closer than I had realised.

Two thoughts struck me at the time. The first was that the widely spaced lights on an R1 DO look like a car further off – I went home and even on the GSX-R where they are much closer together, immediately put a different coloured bulb in one headlight – technically illegal but it’s my safety I’m worried about here.

The second was that the rider hadn’t apparently reacted to me at all. He was just going to sail completely oblivious into the accident I was about to cause. Yes, technically my fault, but did he have to have it with me? Could he not have done something positive himself? There was no blast of high beam and/or horn, no anchoring up, no swerve to the other side of the road (it was clear, remember or I wouldn’t have been about to pull out).

[NOTE – “technically my fault, but did he have to have it with me?”… echoes of my very first article for the Motorcycle Action Group newspaper in 2002 – “it takes two to tangle” – the driver may be the one setting up the crash, but the rider still has to ride into it to complete the collision. And, as in the near-miss I had with the R1 rider, the rider can nearly always see it coming.]

OK, so let’s take a reality check.

Cars do pull out on bikes. Fact.

In around 90% of them, the bike is on the priority road, so technically it’s the car driver’s mistake. Fact.

But if we, as bikers, can STILL make that mistake when on four wheels, knowing all we know about car drivers doing it to us when we’re on two, it’s worth looking at in more depth.

I’ve previously suggested proactive strategies for dealing with SMIDSY incidents, but let’s ask some questions about why drivers don’t see bikes. If we can understand why things go wrong, it may make more sense as to why it’s US as riders that have to deal with the situation, rather than use the “it was the other guy’s fault, I had right of way, he should have seen me” excuse.

There are a whole bunch of reasons to worry when you approach a junction:

There is the driver with simple defective eyesight – plenty of them around…

There is the driver who doesn’t look properly – too many in-car distractions, be it children running amok, the mobile phone demanding immediate attention or just singing along with Des O’Connor.

[NOTE – although ‘defective eyesight’, ‘driving distracted’ and generally ‘not looking properly’ seem likely reasons to explain the ‘Looked But Failed To See’ LBFTS error where drivers don’t see approaching bikes, when I began to look into the issue in more depth it occurred to me that the vast majority of drivers DO see the vast majority of bikes. If they didn’t, we’d not make it far past the first junction.

In total, there are around 350 motorcycle fatalities and some 3000 injuries each year, but they are the result of ALL crashes, not just those at junctions – they total around 100 per annum. But what about encounters that DON’T end in crashes? If we think about how many cars there are on the road (around 40 million) and how many bikes there are (between 1 and 2 million), consider how many junctions every biker passes on every ride, then work out how many times bikes pass through junctions where a car could turn, the number of POTENTIAL collisions that never happen is truly enormous – I don’t think anyone has actually attempted to do the sum. The only conclusion we can make is that drivers DO see nearly every bike when it needs to be seen. And if that’s the case, the only rational explanation is that nearly all drivers DO look properly on nearly every occasion. We can lay to bed the ‘not looking properly’ explanation – it’s a handy myth.]

There is the driver who does see you but chooses the wrong course of action – is the driver inexperienced, merely incompetent, or not used to the vehicle being driven? Ever had a car towing a caravan pull out in front of you and wondered why? I never get anywhere near hire vans for the same kind of reason…

There is the experienced and overconfident driver who looks, thinks he has seen everything but “blanked” the bike because he only sees what he expects to see. New drivers and experienced drivers score very differently in hazard perception tests – new drivers check EVERYTHING in sight but cannot prioritise, experienced drivers check SELECTIVELY, prioritise better but often miss the unusual (ie the bike)…

[NOTE – it turns out there’s an explanation for this too. It doesn’t take long for all road users – bikers included – to develop a different strategy for emerging onto busy roads to the one we’re taught. Rather than the search for vehicles (which is what we think we’re doing), we’re actually all searching for the gaps between them. We all do it, drivers and riders alike. Mostly, it works.]

There is the driver who makes a conscious decision to use you as the gap in the traffic, knowing you will give way – “the bike is softer than a 44 tonner” approach…

[NOTE – I looked into that, too. Evidence from insurance statistics – who you might expect to be looking for a reason to pin a collision on the other driver – suggests it’s actually very rare for a driver to pull out deliberately. We riders tend to interpret it that way because we frequently see the driver appearing to look at us – “I made eye contract but he / she still pulled out” is a common post-crash statement. But as you’ll see if you follow up the SOBS website and check out how the eye actually has a tiny zone of clear, colour vision and sharp focus, it’s entirely likely that what we thought was eye contact, was actually the driver was looking in our direction but focused on the vehicle or gap behind us. I mention this below.]

Even given that the driver knows what to look for, is actively looking for it, knows what to do and isn’t a chancer, doesn’t mean he’ll see you coming. There are a number of reasons.

Most modern cars have huge blind spots:
take a look at the size of the A pillar alongside the windscreen on a modern car. They are designed to make the safety cage of the car rigid in an accident and stop the roof from folding up – it’s no coincidence they are the size of girders!
take a look at the pillar behind the driver’s head where the doors come together – again it’s huge
take a look at the pillar behind the rear window – once again it is part of the safety cage
Depending on the angle the car takes up, it’s quite possible the driver cannot see through you one of these obstructions, and there is always roadside furniture like telegraph poles, trees and letter boxes – if you can’t see his eyes, he cannot see you.

[NOTE – and since I wrote this nearly two decades ago, the A and B pillars have got even thicker as a result of new crash protection requirements. It turns out that around one-in-five collisions actually fall into the ‘looked but COULD NOT see’ category. In the run-up to the collision, although the driver was searching for approaching vehicles, the rider simply hadn’t put the bike in a place where the driver could see it.]

But drivers still don’t see you when they are looking straight at you and you are in clear view. Why not? Two possible causes. An accident analysis I saw the other day suggested that a contributory factor was “visual clutter” – there was so much going on in the direction the driver was looking that she simply didn’t see the bike. The brain was incapable of processing all the information being thrown at it in the time available and bits went astray. Unfortunately, amongst that lost info was the bike.

[NOTE – this phenomenon of processing information has been investigated in other fields – notable aviation – and the sum of the tasks that have to be performed is known as ‘workload’. Only recent has research in workload in driving been carried out, and it shows that in typical driving situations, there’s too much for the human brain to process all at once. So we ‘task-shed’ and focus on only part of the driving task. The very latest research (September 2019) suggests the more that’s going on, the more likely drivers are to forget what they saw a moment earlier. Motorcycles seem to be particularly prone to going missing. This is not carelessness or ‘not looking properly’ either. It’s simply the way the human brain evolved which limits our ability to process complex information.]

The second possibility is down to the way the eye and the brain work in tandem to process visual information. It may mean we see things which aren’t there or be blind to things that are. Even a conscientious driver, looking carefully, may misinterpret what he sees.

The central part of the retina is what sees detail in sharp focus – it’s why you have to look directly at a piece of paper to read what is written on it, but both this and the zone outside this is very sensitive to movement. Try this simple experiment – your eyes will have to move word by word to read this sentence, but if you move the mouse you can see it move over the whole of the screen wherever your eyes are focussed.

[NOTE – and there’s a bit more to this than I realised at the time. As our eyes move to points of interest (the words in this case), they move in jumps and pauses – saccades and fixations. The fixations allow us to focus and pick out the detail of the letters so we read the word. What’s not obvious – although we’ve known about it since the 19th century – is that as the eyes move in a saccade, the visual system shuts down. We’re effectively blind as our eyes move between fixations. It’s known as saccadic masking and is now at last being recognised as a real problem when drivers are turning their heads and looking left and right at junctions.]

As you ride, you’ll often spot motion out of the corner of your eye (a plastic bag flapping in a hedge or a car approaching in a side road) whereas the driver looking back at you is using the sharp focus part of the eye and may not see you because you don’t appear to be moving.

[NOTE – the brain is good at picking out movement in peripheral vision – it’s how our visual system is designed – but approaching a junction on the bike, we’re on a near-collision course with the driver looking in our direction. That means we’re virtually motionless with respect to the background scene, and that means we create no lateral movement to trigger the brain’s motion detection system. It’s known as ‘motion camouflage’. Interestingly this phenomenon has been known about for decades by animal scientists, sailors and fighter pilots, but only recently does it seem to have been realised it applies to drivers too.]

How might he miss seeing you? The brain spots familiar objects by using pattern recognition – as social animals we are very good at recognising faces. As drivers/riders we’ve trained our brain to recognise other important shapes – the silhouettes of another vehicle, the outline of a pedestrian, the pattern of a road sign. The problem is that we learn to recognise these patterns as whole – break up the outline and it vanishes – try recognising a face which is missing the eyes or the mouth! One VD contributor posted an excellent picture of a ‘dazzle-camouflaged’ ship painted in bold strips of grey and blue – it was invisible not because it blended into the background but because the strips gave the eye false outlines to try to make sense of, none of which said ‘SHIP’.

[NOTE – once again, this is ‘old news’ in science but the effects of ‘disruptive camouflage’ is only now beginning to be recognised as an issue. It’s particularly a problem for motorcyclists because our bikes and clothing are often multi-coloured. It’s likely it’s a significant factor in ‘looked but FAILED TO SEE’ errors. Even supposedly hi-vis clothing often fails to create a recognisable silhouette for the driver to see, which may well explain why there’s little evidence that hi-vis clothing has had any positive effect in reducing the proportion of junction collisions.]

When approaching a waiting driver, in certain lights conditions or against certain backgrounds, part of your ‘bike plus rider’ outline may vanish – so the shape that reaches the part of the brain busily processing this information doesn’t shout ‘BIKE’ to the driver’s conscious reactions. If you are approaching head on, without adding movement across the background, there is nothing to alert them to the fact they have missed a vital clue until you get very close and the angle of view starts to change.

[NOTE – this problem of foreground and background colours blending is known as ‘contrast camouflage’. Guess what? We’ve known about it and exploited it for military purposes for a couple of centuries. But road safety has focused entirely on the false premise that if riders wear bright colours they’ll be more visible. Put your yellow hi-vis vest on, then stand in front of a field of oil seed rape in flower, or a yellowing autumn hedge, and see if you stand out. Two of the most important pieces of understanding are:

it’s the CONTRAST that matters, not the colour

the background changes moment by moment and so does our conspicuity

If you want a daytime hi-vis colour that works reasonably well in most environments, it’s not Saturn yellow, but pink! I have been suggesting this for well over a decade, so when I took a BikeSafe day with the Met last year, I was mildly amused to the team suggesting pink hi-vis. I wonder where they got that idea?]

And as if all that weren’t enough that could go wrong, even if the driver does spot you, how does he go about judging your speed and distance?

Well, if an object is heading straight at you, it’s very difficult – switch to sport for a moment. If you’ve ever tried to make the high steepling catch where the batsman has hit the ball straight up, you’ll know that it’s not that easy to judge the catch as it comes down again – even the best players make a mess of it. You have to use an estimate of distance based on what your experience tells you about the apparent size of the object, then use the rate of change of the size of that object to determine what speed you think it’s approaching at, and when you need to cushion the catch.

By contrast a straightforward lob to the boundary is relatively easy to catch even if you have to run to meet it because we use the movement of the ball across the background to give us an extra angle to calculate where it is in 3D.

The driver sitting looking at a bike heading towards him is in the motoring equivalent of that up-and-down catch. At the high closing speeds possible on a motorcycle, it becomes almost impossible to judge distance, speed and time at all accurately.

[This is what I’ve called the ‘looked, saw and MISJUDGED’ error. But as well as the technical difficulty of accurately judging speed and distance, there’s an extra problem. Put a bike side-by-side with a car or van at the same distance and travelling at the same speed, and observers will almost always think the van will arrive first. Looking at the bike, they think they have more time, and make the mistake of pulling out. This has become known as the ‘size-arrival effect’.]

And whilst we’re digesting that, another thing to consider… it’s not just driver to your left you have to worry about, what about the driver turning across your path from the opposite direction? You have little time to react and are likely to add the oncoming vehicle’s speed to your own, and the driver has to factor in their own speed and distance to the turning point. That accident accounts for a whopping 21% of Killed and Seriously Injured in London, despite being the minority accident. By contrast, vehicles emerging from the left account for only 7% of KSI.

[This was the big lesson I personally learned from BikeSafe. I had no idea that the oncoming driver turning across the rider’s path was such a big killer. It’s been something I’ve been flagging up ever since.]

Where’s my coat, I’ll think I’ll take the bus instead!

POSTSCRIPT – Of course back in the early 2000s, what I wrote here kicked off a lot of negative feedback and some stinging criticism, typically suggesting I was “absolving the driver of responsibility”, or “making a victim of the rider”. It wasn’t just motorcyclists either – I was even told by a road safety officer that I was undoing all their good work promoting hi-vis clothing. Even in 2012, my presentation was often greeted with polite disbelief and shakes of the head.

But in the eight years since the first talk, other people have picked up the message and begun to run with it. Biker Down itself has gone national, and is delivered by over half of all fire services, many of which use a version of my SOBS presentation. A year or so after the first SOBS presentations on Biker Down, an RAF pilot compiled a very good article for a London cyclists’ magazine – I still reference that article regularly. And more recently, an excellent video has appeared online under the ‘Fortnine’ moniker on YouTube which covers much of what SOBS began explaining in 2012. Somewhat to my surprise, even BikeSafe in London has begun to cover some of the issues explained by SOBS.

As a result, riders are learning terms like ‘motion camouflage’ and ‘saccadic masking’ and the science isn’t quite so much of a mystery any more. The more of us saying the same thing, the more credible the message becomes and I’ve seen that in the response to my presentations, how attitudes have begun to shift.

Perhaps not surprisingly, as more people become familiar with the concepts of visual perception, critics have now started to say that SOBS is nothing new – that we knew all this already. I certainly don’t claim that I have contributed any original research to SOBS, but what is unique is that SOBS is most certainly the FIRST TIME anyone anywhere has attempted to assemble the research and present it ALL TOGETHER and in a form that is COMPREHENSIBLE to the average rider.

I personally have delivered the SOBS presentation to several thousand attendees on Biker Down in Kent, and many of the fire service Biker Down teams deliver a version of SOBS. Outside of Biker Down, I’ve personally taken SOBS to rider groups across the south of England (so drop me a line if you’d like a presentation delivered to your own group).

And in 2018 and 2019, SOBS achieved international recognition as I travelled to the other side of the world, to New Zealand. At the invitation of the NZ Transport Agency, the Ride Forever training scheme and the Accident Compensation Corporation, I was a keynote speaker on the Shiny Side Up roadshow that toured the county in both years, giving my talk to hundreds of Kiwi bikers at over a dozen venues on both trips.