Tag: development

Posted on

79. Working to gain a BTEC Part Two

The second half of a two-parter on getting a qualification in rider coaching.

Working to gain a BTEC Part Two

Working towards a BTEC – part 2
A couple of weeks before the second practical assessment part of the BTEC, Malc dropped a couple of training scenarios over in an email, and asked for a draft lesson plan for each. My initial view of this was that it would only take a minute or two to knock up the required plan, as both scenarios were something I have dealt with dozens of times in real courses. For example, when I looked at the first scenario (“fairly new rider having problems with bends and following partner”), I thought “easy enough, I’ve run this one myself several times”. So of course, because of the pressure of work through August and September, I left everything to the last minute.

When I sat down to finish the assignment, my initial thoughts ran along the lines of:

“Don’t take anything for granted and go for a ride along a road with some nice bends. The rest of the lesson would be based on what I detect as a problem from that point on. I really wouldn’t work to much of a plan because it’s ‘problem solving’, not training to a syllabus or set plan”.

Having submitted that in an expanded format as a draft for the assignment, another email from Malc bounced back with some helpful hints:

“But would you arrive ‘cold’? No ideas of what to expect i.e. what clues are iin the information provided? Would you bring along anything besides yourself & your bike? You’ve already started to plan, like it or not, by choosing a road with ‘nice’ bends! And what does your experience tell you to expect? Look back at the clues in the scenario again.”

I began to see what Malcolm was driving at… several hours and several balled-up printouts later, I had fleshed out that bald statement and presented my idea of a lesson plan.

Back came the reply. I was close, but no cigar. It wasn’t in ‘lesson plan’ format.

Err. OK, what was it about my lesson plan that wasn’t a lesson plan? I spent a few evenings on the internet discovering how to structure my plan into the kind now used by teachers.

I sent off a second draft. Almost there. A couple of constructive criticisms, another evening of work and one final rehash and I had it in shape – Malc passed it.

As I just hinted, any teacher would be instantly familiar with the format. Every activity is clearly explained with the aims of the exercise, the time to be taken, the results to be achieved and a way to assess the results. Also listed are the resources required, right down to pen and paper.

Now you might well argue in ‘real life’ we run sessions in a much more flexible manner, because we have the knowledge, experience and skill to do adapt quickly to a ‘real person’ when they meet us for training. That may well be true, but by formatting the planning for a session we do gain benefits:

  • we can identify and work on specific objectives to ensure that learning takes place

  • our knowledge, experience and planning skills are clearly demonstrated not only to any external assessor, but also to the trainee, and heaven forbid, anyone looking at the course after the event with a view to preparing a liability claim

  • having identified the key information using the format will make planning (and training) more accessible

Where there is a clear benefit is for a relatively inexperienced instructor. He or she will have a much better chance of doing a decent job following a carefully prepared plan. It took a long time but ultimately the DVSA moved in this direction with CBT and DAS training just a few years back.

Nevertheless, I do think there are limitations to the use of lesson plans.

One thing that we can be sure of is that when we encounter a trainee in person, we may have to revise our plan based on our assessment of their real-life abilities. Although my pre-training discussions with the trainee usually get the trainee onto the appropriate course, it’s not unknown for me to have to change the course. Usually the trainee has underestimated their ability and I’m able to move them from the Confidence: BUILDER one-day course to one of my more advanced sessions. Only occasionally do I have to go the other way and drop to a less-technical course but it has happened.

But of course, I do have multiple lesson plans to deal with trainees with different needs and different wishlists. But it’s not unusual for a lesson plan based approach to lead to a ‘one size fits all’ approach to training, forced onto trainers and trainees alike – CBT is a good example. For all the recent changes which encourage trainers to make the course ‘client-centred’, the course is so prescriptive, so heavily dominated by the DVSA’s lesson-planning approach that says what can be done and in what order, that it has little room for flexibility or originality. But that’s something else altogether and for another column.

Back to the BTEC story. I turned up for the practical assessment at the venue in Newbury, and was met by Malc, and introduced to Steve Dixey (formerly of the BMF – I’ve known him online for many years) and a gentleman who turned out to be an external moderator from Edexcel. I was on assessment with copper, writer and road tester, Ian Kerr.

Initially Steve and I spent some time going over my portfolio to fill in a few holes in my explanations and to answer a few penetrating questions. After a short Highway Code/Roadcraft multiple guess test, next up was an interesting exercise. Ian, as a class one police licence holder, was to assess my riding whilst I tried to ride to advanced standard. Malcolm would assess us both. And when we got back, I would also sit down and assess my ride.

I have every sympathy with trainees who ride badly when being watched because I do too. Entirely predictably, with all those eyes watching my every move, I rode like a plank. Ian concurred and said I would have barely scraped through with an advanced pass in his view.

But what WAS interesting, given our very different backgrounds and even though there were predictable areas of disagreement on progress and comfort braking, was that when Ian, Malcolm and I compared our marking sheets, they turned out to be eerily similar. The implication was that even though our backgrounds were very different (I was a self-taught courier and CBT/DAS trainer, Malc used to run the BMF ‘Blue Riband’ advanced scheme and Ian was a trained police rider), we all spotted the same mistakes and the same good points, and had very similar ideas of what constituted good technique.

After lunch, it was onto the mock lessons where I had to to brief, observe, assess, correct and finally debrief the ‘nervous’ rider accordingly. Each on-road training scenario was complex enough to be reasonably challenging whilst nothing I had not seen before. The main problem in teaching ‘select chunks’ from a broader lesson plan is determining exactly what can be taken as ‘prior knowledge’ and exactly where in the lesson we actually are. But Malcolm’s own briefing and play-acting made it reasonably straightforward for me to determine what was expected.

Rather amusingly, I picked up an issue that wasn’t part of the play-acting. I noted that Malc’s foot position on the pegs could have led to a dragging toe at greater lean angles – there a danger that if you hit a bit of a bump, the foot can then get dragged backwards under the peg, breaking an ankle. So when I mentioned it, thinking it was part of the scenario, Malc looked a bit surprised. He said it was his normal riding style and that he’d check it out.

Many hours later, we finished for the day. It was tough enough to be a challenge, but it was also a thoroughly enjoyable day. Steve and Malcolm were efficient but friendly, our BTEC moderator sat quietly in the background and only occasionally asked a clarifying question, and it was of particular interest to have been matched with a police rider to watch the contrast in styles.

So, now all I have to do is wait for the the result!

(I’m pleased to say my BTEC was granted shortly afterwards.)

Posted on

78. Working to gain a BTEC Part One

How do you get a qualification in motorcycle coaching? Here’s my experience.

Working to gain a BTEC Part One

Soon after starting Survival Skills, I decided to look for some kind of recognised qualification as a post-test instructor. Although I was already a CBT and DAS qualified instructor and have a Masters degree in a science, something more relevant would look good on the CV, I thought. The best bet at the time looked to be a Driver Education course at Middlesex University, firstly partly because it had a distance learning option and I lived in Kent, and secondly because it could be extended through NVQ to degree, master and even PhD level.

After signing on and parting with the relevant amount of cash, my first modules arrived in the autumn. I knuckled down and got stuck into the work. With the deadline approaching two months later, I presented the work only to discover my tutor had taken a holiday just as we were supposed to be submitting the work. I was told it would now be marked too late to move onto the second module in the spring. I wasn’t particularly happy about that. I was even less happy when several of the topics I’d submitted were rejected because they were motorcycle-specific – I was told they didn’t have a tutor who knew anything about motorcycles. Hardly my problem, I thought. Eventually, I gathered a couple of points towards an NVQ, but as the experience hadn’t been brilliant I reluctantly decided to drop it and save my money.

Instead I turned to the BTEC in Advanced Motorcycle Instruction that was run by South Lincs Motorcycle Training. It turned out to be a far better choice than the Middlesex University course.

Both courses used an element of ‘accreditation of prior learning’ (APL) element for instructors with previous experience to replace traditional ‘taught’ courses. The idea is that you show the assessors that you have not only been teaching, but that you have used the courses you have taught as a learning experience for yourself to develop and improve both personal skills and the training being delivered. It avoids the need to spend weeks in the classroom being taught what you already know.

The required format for the BTEC was slightly different from the Middx course. This meant the original submission I had made to Middx was a useful background document, The main exhibit was to be a portfolio which still needed fleshing out with the hard evidence.

Sounds easy? Yes, at first sight. Easy enough to provide photocopies of my driving licence and CBT card. Not too difficult to provide copies of my current training notes. But to demonstrate learning?

Fortunately I’m one of those people who NEVER throws anything away. That does mean the office is knee-deep in paperwork and old bike magazines but it also meant I could lay hands on old notes which I used to develop the syllabus, briefing notes at various stages of development, course details themselves including debriefing notes and so on, right up to the current ‘in-use’ stuff.

First up I assembled notes from the original instructor training course I attended in 1995. I added the DAS training course I personally wrote back in early 1997 for the basic training school to help instructors pass the Direct Access assessment. I had a large pile of notes which became the drafts, redrafts, final versions and revised final versions of my advanced training syllabus itself. I had the same stacks of papers showing the various stages of development of the course handouts that go to the trainees. I added copies of other training materials such as training aids and assessment sheets. I added items of interest from from the website and motorcycle forums. I added original drafts and photocopies of items that appeared in the various magazines I have had articles published in. Finally, I added selected emails from trainees requesting courses and the follow up written debriefs that are provided with the courses.

The result? An overflowing A4 box-file on which I couldn’t actually shut the lid.

I made a date for an interview to determine whether the portfolio was up to the job and to see if I could justify the learning I was claiming. It wasn’t quite the grilling I had expected – Malcolm Palmer popped over to meet me in Oxford and spent a long evening chatting informally over several mugs of tea and a plate of fish and chips, whilst going piece-by-piece through the file. However, he was thorough – around 4 hours later (too late for a quick pint) Malcom left me with a list of what he would like included and copied for the formal submission for APL.

Now all I had to do was copy those I needed to submit, and annotate them to explain what they were and why I was submitting them. Job done, I thought.

Ha. What seemed like a couple of hours work dragged on into weeks of sifting the box, and hunting for the original files on the PC and long-lost zip disks (remember them?). Sometimes I discovered they were formatted for an extinct version of a word processor it seemed no-one else had ever used. In some cases I was able to reformat and print a copy, but where the notes were handwritten or the PC version was long gone, I had to scan then print page-by-page for the portfolio.

Eventually, everything was neatly placed in a large red ring binder and dropped off to Malcolm the evening before the second part of the APL assessment.

…. to be continued ….

Posted on

73. Improving our riding – and coping with a block on self-development

The “Ladder of Learning” framework is a classic from teaching, but aligns well with rider development. But modern riders have new tools such as on-bike cameras and performance-tracking apps to allow objective looks at how they cope with the roads and develop skill at braking and leaning. Focused sessions targeting one skill at a time—the Salami Principle—remain highly effective as does deliberately broadening experience. A fresh challenge can reignite development, but remember that skill is never ‘complete’; each plateau is just the level ground before the next climb.

Improving our riding – and coping with a block on self-development

Riders can get stuck in their development. Some years back I took on a trainee who felt that his riding development had reached a plateau. He had several years of riding behind him after passing the bike test, and had starting on a course of advanced training. But after some initial improvement, the feedback being given to him after his observed rides wasn’t showing any further development. He knew there was more to learn – after all, that was what his observer was telling him – but his forward progress had stalled and he didn’t know why, nor how to resume forward development. His observer had been telling him he needed to develop some ‘gloss’ on his riding, but he felt he’d peaked. His enquiry email asked: “Is this kind of normal – learning a bit, levelling off for a while, learning a bit more, levelling off even more etc or am I right in thinking I’ll just never be better than I am now?” So here’s another question. Can we identify the barriers that stop our development in its tracks?

The first thing I’ll say is that ‘advanced’ training does not replace what we learned when we started out as a motorcyclist. The fact is that basic training teaches us 90% of the skills we’ll use 90% of the time. So post-test training supplements, but does not supplant, what would better be termed ‘core skills’. And if that’s the case, there should be a couple of obvious reasons for a levelling-off effect:

  • each new level of learning produces less-dramatic results because we’re increasingly ‘improving’ rather than ‘adding’ skills and knowledge- the improvements are ever more subtle

  • each new level of learning is usually harder work – we’ll only see results if we’re prepared to put in the effort and that may push us outside our comfort zone

Putting in the effort emphasises the need for practice. ‘PRACTICE makes PERMANENT’ (and not perfect). In other words, if we want ANY learning to stick, we need to keep going out and using what we learned. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a new language or riding a motorcycle round bends. It’s often LACK of practice that stalls development. It’s a point I make several times during one of my advanced motorcycle training courses, but I cannot make riders go out and practice.

Practice must also has to be targeted. Simply going out riding isn’t the answer, because it’s “the same day’s experience, experienced one thousand times”. We have to spend time working on what we learned.

So when progress has stalled, it may well be a failure to spend time working with the new skills.

Here’s something else to consider. Learning occurs in a series of sequential steps starting from the point where initially, we don’t even know what we don’t know.

UNCONSCIOUS INCOMPETENCE: This is ’16er with a CBT on a scoot’ syndrome – not enough experience and not enough knowledge to know what we need to know.

CONSCIOUS INCOMPETENCE: after a while, we begin to recognise we have issues and that we don’t know how to deal with it. This is roughly the level the DVSA hazard perception test aims at – the ability to click a button when a car might cause a SMIDSY collision, but no understanding of how or why it happens is needed, nor any strategy to deal with the problem.

CONSCIOUS COMPETENCE: maybe more experience or after training for a DVSA test pass, we’ve learning, but it’s still a ‘work-in-progress’ – we have to constantly remind ourselves to what to do. It’s good developmental stage, but it’s essentially still a ‘reactive’ one where we respond AFTER a hazard develops and prone to lapses where we forget.

UNCONSCIOUS COMPETENCE: ride long enough or take the short-cut of some post-test training and with a bit of luck our ability to read the road, analyse what we see, and respond to hazards has all become ‘proactive’ – we no longer have to think our way through problems, it’s become a smooth, well-practiced drill.

These four sequential steps are sometimes known as the ‘Ladder of Learning’.

The first two stages impose serious limitations on safety which is why basic training aims to push us straight into the third ‘conscious competence’ phase, and post-test training aims to take us beyond. The trouble is that learning is hard work. As we try out the new ideas or techniques, we’re consciously processing what we’re doing and using our real-time thinking brain in this way is exhausting. We simply can’t keep it up for long – it’s a real problem with day-long CBT training – and that can lead to two mistakes:

  1. trying too hard – just as with my own advanced coaching sessions, we’ll achieve far more from short practice sessions than by going out for long rides

  2. trying to do everything at once – tackle one thing at a time, it’s the way I teach riders and it’s the way I advise them to practice. I call it the Salami Principle. Why? Slices of salami eaten over time are delicious and digestible. But if we try to eat the whole thing at once, we’ll be sick. The same applies to skills – sliced up, we can practice and achieve the result we were looking for, attempt everything at once and we’ll be overwhelmed with the task.

And simply mastering any technique isn’t enough either. Longer term, we have to work to embed what we learned into our regular riding. Just ‘knowing’ what we should be doing isn’t enough. The moment I hear – as someone wrote on a forum recently – “I have to concentrate too hard when I’m riding advanced”, it means they haven’t worked at making the techniques so automatic that they have become an unconscious part of everyday riding technique. If we don’t USE it, we LOSE it.

What’s far less obvious is that once we get to the top of one particular ladder, we’ll be at the bottom of the next – there’s always something we don’t know. But of course we don’t know that. Another way our development can stall is if we only ever do the same riding with the same group of people or ride the same kinds of roads. With no new benchmarks, we’ll never discover if we need new skills – we’ll assume we’re good enough. If we want to continue to develop, we need to understand that the learning process doesn’t end.

So if we’re feeling comfortable with our riding, it could be time to push ourselves out of our comfort zone again, to head back to the level of conscious incompetence where we’re ready to learn new ideas and skills. And just possibly, a change of perspective is needed. Perhaps a Survival Skills advanced rider training course may be just the change you need to kick-start development again.

Posted on

69. Where does Point and Squirt come from?

It’s the cornering technique that pulls everything together but I didn’t learn it from Motorcycle Roadcraft. If there’s one topic I’ve always felt UK-based training at basic and post-test level has been seriously lacking, it’s a comprehensive approach to cornering that goes beyond the mechanical inputs and positioning, but covers hazard recognition, risk assessment and risk management. In short, I picked up the various elements from a number of different sources, tested them via trial-and-error, then combined them into a system of cornering that I used personally. When I started post-test coaching, I taught riders what I’d learned and called it ‘Point and Squirt’ for the “slow in, late apex, quick steering, delayed and upright acceleration” combination that seemed to me to work best on awkward bends. It remains a highly practical and, adaptable approach to cornering.

Where does Point and Squirt come from?

Although I’m often told that what I teach on my Survival Skills post-test training course is the same as you’d find if you read the police handbook ‘Motorcycle Roadcraft’ (the most recent critic called it “Roadcraft with lipstick and blusher” which made me chuckle), that’s not actually correct. There are plenty of areas of commonality, not least that the aim of ‘Roadcraft’ and Survival Skills is to try to keep riders upright and that there’s nothing any rider can do with a motorcycle except change speed and direction. But Survival Skills is most definitely not ‘Roadcraft’ under a different name’. The Survival Skills approach avoids seeing ‘progress’ as the goal of advanced riding and changes the ‘do it the right way’ approach to riding to a more pragmatic ‘have we prepared for things to go wrong’ approach. And in particular, Survival Skills has always offered a far more organised approach to cornering. In the mid-90s, the current edition of ‘Roadcraft’ barely covered the topic – steering wasn’t even in the book. Even now, with a much-improved updated edition, it’s my opinion that the Survival Skills Performance: BENDS and Performance: SPORT course go way beyond ‘Roadcraft’s’ new content. Read on, and decide for yourself.

In the UK, and with just a few exceptions, most advanced training – whether it’s delivered by the IAM, RoSPA-certificated instructors, or even in a watered-down form by the ERS (thanks to the connection with the DVSA) – has its roots in UK police practice – the police handbook ‘Motorcycle Roadcraft’ is recommended background reading and they all apply the ‘Police System of Motorcycle Control’ as a core component of their training.

However, whilst I make USE of ‘Roadcraft’ as well as the IAM’s offerings and various books from the DVSA, my training certain ISN’T ‘Roadcraft-based’.

Looking further afield than the UK, there are other training schemes around the world and many writers with valuable things to say about riding, so I have drawn heavily on outside sources. I’ve looked at the work of US rider coach Keith Code (of the California Superbike School) and his concept of cornering reference points. There’s David Hough’s huge amount of work, the laid-back approach of Nick Ianetsch, as well as ideas from Lee Parks (Total Control) and Reg Pridmore (CLASS) all to be found in my courses. I’ve obtained training material from contacts with the US-based MSF which have influneced my thinking. I’ve incorporated techniques from the Australian ‘Ride On’ programme. Even more recently, the internet has allowed me to swap ideas with and ride with trainers and other motorcyclists from all over the world. And I also have my not-insignificant time as a courier to draw on, something that taught me how easily things can go wrong on the road.

Survival Skills cornering courses have always focused on three aspects of cornering:

  1. hazard awareness, risk assessment and risk management

  2. a system of ‘reference points’ that allows any rider to navigate around any corner

  3. a method of mapping machine inputs – braking, steering, throttle control – to the reference points

Put together, Survival Skills has delivered the unique ‘Point and Squirt’ approach to cornering since 1997. So, is my Point and Squirt approach to corners “Roadcraft with lipstick and blusher” as that critic claimed? Not in my opinion.

Almost as soon as I bought a bike – a lovely little Honda CB125S – and set off on L plates (no compulsory basic training back then) I wanted to find out more about cornering. Just a few months into my riding career, I got hold of the old ‘Blue Book’ police manual. I soon added an IAM book, and progressively added more – who remembers ‘Superbiking’ by Blackett Ditchburn? No? I thought not!

Unfortunately, despite learning about the ‘Police System of Motorcycle Control’, trying to apply it to corners didn’t help much when nobody had told me how to steer – it wasn’t in ‘Roadcraft’ back then. I actually discovered counter-steering thanks to a magazine article whilst I was at college. Turn the bars the wrong way? Madness! But it worked. I taught myself to ‘push right, go right’ and ‘push left, go left’. Even though it wasn’t in ‘Roadcraft’, it got me round corner and also I realised it could help me swerve out of trouble – something that saved me a number of times when I became a courier.

I also learned about how I should use “acceleration sense”, matching the throttle opening (and thus speed) to the radius of a corner as judged by changes to the ‘Limit Point’. Opening and closing the throttle as the radius of the bend changed worked OK on a 12hp 125, and reasonably well a couple of years later on a 37hp 400-F with stiff suspension when I passed my test. But when I added a CX500 to my collection of bikes in 1982, a bike with 50-odd horsepower and a shaft drive, I found any on-off throttle round corners destabilised the soft and relatively long-travel suspension. By trial and error, I found the best way to keep the bike going where I wanted was to slow down a bit earlier, then to keep the throttle steady all the way through the corner from entry to exit. If the bend changed radius, rather than try to change speed with the throttle, I changed lean angle instead. It also worked better on my 400-F, and the technique I’ve continued to use successfully on every bike from a Husqvarna 610TE enduro to a GSX-R sports bike. In short, it works on anything.

Another learning experience was that using a ‘maximum radius’ line that “works the tyres less hard” (that’s a quotation from an early 2000s West Midlands BikeSafe video, one I have in my collection) could have its downsides. When I started riding, the advice in the Highway Code was that riders should still ride three feet (just under a metre) out from the kerb. But more and more riders were rejecting that. So what to use instead? Well, there were lots of magazine articles about the ‘maximum radius line’ where we exploit the width of our lane by riding a ‘wide in, clip the apex, wide out’ racing line. Even if not explicitly suggested, it was definitely hinted at in Roadcraft – just to check my memory was correct, I recently dug out my old ‘Blue Book’ edition of Roadcraft and it does indeed show near-symetrical maximum radius lines worked into the full width of the lane.

So I started using it. There’s another article which goes into more detail but suffice to say, I discovered its drawbacks on the road when I nearly had my head removed by an oncoming police car in the middle of a right-hand bend. In retrospect I suppose ‘racing line’ should have been a clue. The driver didn’t seem too impressed with it either. I’d also discovered that if I got it a bit wrong on a left-hander, I would (and did) end up in a field, I started to use less-aggressive lines that avoided both grass and oncoming police cars. Nevertheless, it’s still being talked about in that much later BikeSafe video.

Although I was still reading anything I could lay my hands on, my cornering skills stagnated through the 80s, mostly because nearly all my riding was as a courier mostly in and around London. But then in 1990 I moved back to Kent. And now I was doing a lot of cross-country courier runs and clocking up a LOT of miles on twisty roads. By coincidence, a series called ‘Survival Arts’ began appearing in the old ‘Motorcycle Sport’ magazine.

In April 1990, the article on cornering jumped out at me. The diagrams showed the rider going much deeper into a corner, then turning tighter later in the bend keeping well away from the centre line (right-hander) or the kerb (left-hander) before exiting on a far less extreme line. It was very different line to the line I’d seen before. And yes, I still have that source too, to double-check.

I remember the day I tried out the Survival Arts line. I was on a run out to Wales on a nice sunny day, and finding it difficult to pass a tractor on a twisty road. I suddenly realised that taking a line on right-handers which went a little deeper in to the turn gave me a good view on the way up to the bend, kept me away from oncoming traffic mid-corner whilst using a quicker, more positive counter-steering input to square off the corners helped me get upright and lined up with the straights sooner. Coming out of a right-hander, I turned the bike tighter onto a straight long enough to pass the tractor. Having got past, I kept trying it, and found it made riding the twisty road a lot easier on left-handers too. It was an absolute revelation. I’ve got some notes dating from 1992 when I actually started to write up the ‘on the road’ benefits of what would become ‘Point and Squirt’. Why Point and Squirt? Because that’s exactly what we do. We wait till we see where the road is going next, then turn sharper, ‘point’ the bike at the exit and turn the throttle harder to ‘squirt’ the bike out down the road to the next hazard.

Soon after, I borrowed a buddy’s copy of Keith Code’s ‘Twist of the Wrist 2’ because I was about to do my first track day. Although a lot of the book was irrelevant to the road (and some almost incomprehensible on first reading), I did take away some postives. Code confirmed my ‘open the throttle all the way through the corner’ approach was right, and his thinking on stability issues and the need to keep the bike upright as much as possible, also confirmed the benefit of the Survival Arts deep in, quick steer approach. He also said “turn only when you see the exit” which I realised is what I was doing with my Survival Arts line. Code’s “steer once” advice and his definition of the exit (“where you can do anything you want with the throttle – pull a wheelie if you want to”) all made immediate sense given what I was already doing.

Code supplied a crucial missing link with his concept of ‘reference markers’ (repeating and easy-to-recognise points in bends). You won’t find this in ‘Roadcraft’ or any of the books based on it. Yet Code’s ‘Two Step’ technique (in short, an approach which gets us to search for one reference point, then when we see it, move our eyes further forward to look for the next) explained when to look, where to look, and what we are looking for. Code provided some crucial missing links and by putting Code’s quick-steer approach, the ‘Two Step’ and the reference marker concept altogether, we have a way of timing braking, steering and acceleration inputs consistently.

By combining what I’d learned from Code with my Survival Arts cornering line, I developed a consistent style that used positively-timed (but NOT ‘harder’) braking to slow whilst upright, a slower, squared-off turning point late in the corner that gets the bike upright earlier, allowing early, positive and upright acceleration out of the bend. My cornering technique took another big step forward – rather than carrying corner speed using the ‘maximum radius’ line as I had on the 125, I was positively sacrificing it.

I got plenty of chance to polish Point and Squirt on long rural courier runs, so let’s fast-forward to 1994 when I got online and began to discuss riding, including my Point and Squirt cornering approach with riders from all over the world. MSF instructor Don Kime sent me some training material which showed how to break down corners using the ‘Slow, Look, Lean, Roll’ approach (quite a few years before Thames Valley Advanced Motorcyclists hi-jacked the technique, incidentally). Now I’d added a way to break the corner down into easily-defined chunks which matched Code’s machine inputs. I also got useful feedback from US riders who’d done Code’s California Superbike School as well as Reg Pridmore’s CLASS in the United States, where the ex-pat British former racer seemed to be teaching a road line not-dissimilar to my Point and Squirt.

By 1996 I was working down in Lydd as a CBT instructor, and I joined a local IAM group. Boy, Point and Squirt did not go down well with my observer. Braking, squaring off, then accelerating upright out of corners; nope, that was all wrong. Instead, I was told how the ‘proper’ approach to cornering was to “vary throttle and speed with radius” and to “smooth out the radius of the corner”. OK, maybe not quite so close to the white paint as my old approach to right-handers, but essentially I was being shown the throttle control that hadn’t worked on my old CX and a near-identical line to the one I’d discarded after the near-decapitation by the police car.

Just a few month later, I ran my own advanced course for one of our trainees who’d recently passed his bike test and turned up with a new machine. I got a day’s warning from the boss, spent the previous evening roughing out a syllabus, and rather than the IAM line it was my own Point and Squirt approach that I showed him. When launched Survival Skills Rider Training in 1997, this reference point-based, slow in on the gas, quick steer and late-turn line was a key part of the two-day Survival: SKILLS course. I’ve continued to develop Point and Squirt, but the essentials were in place.

In early 2000, I was invited to run an advanced riding section on a national motorcycle forum. It rapidly gained members, and questions soon popped up about cornering. When riders had issues cornering, I’d describe the benefits of the Point and Squirt approach. And suddenly, I was being told that this was “the line you’d take if you’d followed the advice in Motorcycle Roadcraft” or that I’d “misunderstood Roadcraft and that if I’d taken IAM training, I’d have been shown how to ‘interpret’ it correctly”.

I checked over my extensive collision of books, articles and videos which date from the early ’70s to see if my memory really was failing but, nope. The Survival Arts line is quite obviously different from diagrams in the ‘Blue Book’ edition of Roadcraft. And there’s that 2000s West Midlands BikeSafe video too (even if the footage clearly shows the rider demonstrating what I’d call Point and Squirt. With hindsight, I’ll concede that there IS a written warning to “tuck in tighter and not to exit too close to the white line on left-handers” in the Blue Book, and the “turn only when you see the exit” advice IS in the mid-90s editions of Roadcraft. But in neither book is the message given any great prominence, possibly because – as is also regularly pointed out – the book was intended to be read alongside the police practical training. However, my response to that is “why write a book with half the story?”

A less charitable suggestion was that I was trying to “score points over other trainers”, or wanted to be the “sole Guardian of the Truth” – if that were true, I’d hardly be explaining how Point and Squirt worked, would I now?

For what it’s worth, a few years after the first “Point and Squirt is just Roadcraft properly explained” bun fight, I met a very nice bloke on a group trip in Europe. He’d had his IAM pass for 20 years but was active in his group. At the end of one of our rides, he quizzed me on the lines I was taking. I explained Point & Squirt. “Nah”, he said, “I don’t like that… it’s all stop/start and sudden jinks… I like match the throttle to the bend mid-corner… and I like to lean the bike and use wide sweeping lines because the bike’s more stable… it’s how my two mates who are both ex-police riders ride too”. Next day I followed him. He was rolling the throttle on and off mid-corner and taking the maximum radius line round bends.

So if Point and Squirt really isn’t ‘Roadcraft-revisited’, does anyone else teach something similar? Some years AFTER I’d talked about Point and Squirt online, Andy Ibbott – then director of the UK outlet of Code’s California Superbike school – wrote about Code’s cornering in ‘Motor Cycle News’. Without calling it Point and Squirt, Andy Morrison of Rapid Training explained it very well indeed in a series in ‘Bike’ magazine between 2005 and 2006, more than ten years after I first started writing about Point and Squirt online, and almost as long after I started teaching it.

So I think I’ve shown that there is a significant difference between the Point and Squirt approach to cornering and what’s covered by Roadcraft-based training. If you’re still struggling to accept that after reading my explanation, maybe book up a course and see for yourself.

Posted on

13. Practice doesn’t just makes PERMANENT… it keeps POLISHED too

The very first version of this article, written over fifteen years ago fell into a common trap. I talked about how practice makes perfect. But I quickly learned – thanks to a horse riding instructor who was took training courses with both Survival Skills Advanced Rider Training and another former trainer who remains a buddy of mine – that’s not actually how it works. Repeating a skill actually fixes it in place – it makes it PERMANENT. For that reason it’s vital to learn the RIGHT techniques before we start practicing. We need to practice the perfect! It highlights a slightly different angle of rider development—skill retention, mental mapping, and context-dependent performance—rather than purely skill acquisition or risk awareness. But even after that my ideas developed. It’s perfectly possible to LOSE skills if we don’t keep them POLISHED. Riding skills should not be ‘just learned’, they shouldn’t eve be ‘maintained’. They should be honed and worked up to even higher levels.

Practice doesn’t just makes PERMANENT… it keeps POLISHED too

It all started when I was watching an online debate about the technique of ‘offsiding’, which is where riders cross the centre line onto the other lane to get a better view ahead:

“It helped me get over my reticence for going over the white line onto the wrong side of the road approaching corners for more visibility…. The thing I noticed in France was that I could easily move to the left for a right hand corner, because then I was on the ‘correct’ side of the road for home, therefore it didn’t feel as awkward. I think it’s just a mental barrier I have to overcome.”

I’m not going into the offsiding technique here – that’s another debate altogether – but it got me thinking.

I’d noticed that when I was abroad, although I was comfortable sitting near the centre line on a right-hander (ie, the reverse of what we’d do in the UK), I really wasn’t nearly so happy lining the bike up with the righthand edge of the lane near the grass for a left-hander. In the UK, I can place the bike precisely along the grass verge, but in France I was giving myself a good metre of leeway. I felt very uncomfortable pushing myself any closer, and if I tried I began to fixate on the edge of the road to the exclusion of taking advantage of the view ahead – it was definitely a mental thing.

Holding our position accurately within the lane is largely subconscious and relies on peripheral vision – or it should, if our our attention is up away and some distance ahead. But to achieve that precise positioning, we need a ‘mental map’ of the lane so our peripheral vision has something to refer to.

Riding all the time in the UK, constant practice generates a clear mental map of how my position should appear in peripheral vision. So when positioning left-of-centre to see around a right-hand bend, I ‘knew’ where I was in the lane, which allowed me to get on with looking further ahead.

But once I switched sides of the road in France, the mental map was clearly missing. As soon as I lined up right-of-centre near the verge, I began worrying subconsciously about the position of the bike.

As soon as I realised this, I began working on moving position bit-by-bit, rather than trying to take up the mirror image position. It took a bit of effort, but I was soon overcoming this mental block.

Now, here’s the reference to ‘practice keeps polished’. If I don’t ride abroad for a while, the problem comes back. But if I ride abroad regularly, it goes away quickly. If I take a break from riding abroad – as I did some years back – then it takes much longer for the issue to vanish again.

An excellent demonstration that we need to constantly work on riding skills to keep them polished and in tip-top condition. So…

…when was the last time you performed an emergency stop?

Posted on

09. The Salami Principle and Practice Makes Permanent – the key to learning new skills

Reviewing this article in the context of what I know now about skill acquisition indicates that I could have added some useful nuance to these ideas. We now know that practice is most effective when it is accompanied by clear, specific feedback, so that errors are identified early rather than being unknowingly embedded. It is also more robust when practice is varied and contextual, with changes in speed, environment or constraints, because this improves transfer to real-world riding rather than competence in a single exercise. Mental rehearsal and visualisation have been shown to reinforce physical practice, particularly where time, space or confidence are limited. Just as importantly, riders benefit from deliberate self-reflection — asking what has improved, what still feels weak, and why — rather than assuming progress is automatic. Finally, long-term improvement depends less on knowing what to practise than on sustaining the motivation to practise, which is best supported by small, achievable goals and visible progress rather than endless repetition of the same exercise.

But essentially, the underlying problem it addresses has not changed; skills do not “stick” simply because we attended a course. Subsequent research into motor learning, habit formation, and behaviour change has largely reinforced these ideas rather than replaced them. Terms such as chunking, spaced repetition, and deliberate practice are now commonplace, but the principles remain the same.

The Salami Principle and Practice Makes Permanent – the key to learning new skills

Each of my courses ends with a debrief where I remind the trainee of the aim of the course (ie, what they wanted to get out of it and what I thought they needed), how we approached those goals, what was achieved, what remained weak, and the need to continue working AFTER the course. The last point is one of the most important, but also one of the most overlooked. Any course of training has a limited effect… unless the trainee commits to continually reviewing and practicing what was covered.

Training courses require three steps:

the first stage is ‘preparation’ which is all about the behind-the-scenes work that the trainer does to prepare for the course
the second stage is’engagement’, which very briefly indicates that the training has to be interesting AND relevant to the trainee.
and third is ’embedding’, which is whether or not the training is delivered in a way that ‘sticks’.

“Preparation is all” is something you’ll hear regularly. Actually, it’s important but it’s not everything, and even a technically well-prepared course can fall down because the content is wrong for the student (or the trainer fails to show the trainee why it IS relevant). Or it can fail because the worthwhile content is boring.

But even if a course is well-prepared, well-delivered and relevant, there’s no guarantee it’ll stick. It needs to become ’embedded’.

The first version of this article, written quite some time ago recognised the need to get the trainee to do some work to help with this embedding. I talked about the need for practice, and I used a phrase I first heard from one of my earliest trainees, who happened herself to be a horse riding instructor. She said:

“Practice doesn’t make perfect. What it actually does is makes PERMANENT. So if you practice the wrong techniques, you won’t get better, you will only make the wrong techniques a permanent part of your performance. And that’s why you need to practice the perfect.”

That actually made an awful lot of sense. But practice alone isn’t enough. Training needs to be structured in a way that breaks a particular skill down into manageable chunks, which build back together in a logical order. This is something I’ve been doing since the earliest days and one day at the end of the session, I was explaining how the trainee could use this approach to schedule meaningful practice. I called it ‘compartmentalisation’ and he said: “Ah, the Salami Principle” and explained that thin-sliced, a salami is delicious and digestible. But try to eat the entire salami in one go, and we’ll simply make ourselves sick.

The Salami Principle applies to riding. Don’t try to practice everything at once, but remember the structure of the training and how it was broken down into simpler techniques which can be practiced one at a time. Even if we think we can remember everything, when still in the ‘practice makes permanent’ stage of development, it’s all too common for it all to fall apart again. Bang goes the trainee’s new-found confidence.

Slow riding skills are a good example. What do riders do when they want to practice slow control? They go out and attempt U-turns. They often do it on a new bike that they’ve never attempted a U-turn on before. What happens? They fall off. Why? Because a U-turn is the END product (albeit a pretty useless one in itself) of a sequence of skills, NOT the starting point. It’s only a moment’s thought to realise that controlling a bike around any tight turn needs sub-skills:

posture - gripping the tank with the knees and keeping the shoulders, elbows, wrists and neck loose
the ability to slip the clutch
the ability to balance clutch and throttle together
the ability to ride the bike at a consistent speed by controlling speed with the rear brake
the ability to look into the turn
knowing where to look into the turn and what NOT to look at
knowing how and why we should use counter-weighting
understanding where and when to make steering inputs
being comfortable with the bike leaning

All those can be practiced in that order, working on one skill at a time until we are happy we’ve got the hang of it. Some can be done at a standstill – posture and turning our head for example, or looking for ‘reference points’ to help make a tight turn and not get distracted by the kerb. Only when each is mastered do we move onto the next one. And then the skill set is pulled together using easy exercises like the Figure of 8 where there is plenty of room to start fast and wide before pulling the circles in tighter.

But set off straight into a U-turn without having practiced and mastered these skills and things can – and do -go wrong very quickly indeed.

But it was rather more recently that I discovered why practicing makes permanent. It’s known as the ‘Ebbinhaus Forgetting Curve’ and it dates from as far back as 1885, when Hermann Ebbinghaus first realised that we rapidly forget most of what we just learned, retaining relatively little from any learning experience.

What he showed over a century ago remains true to day. Any training course can fail to bring about lasting behaviour change, even when the first two stages of training – preparation and engagement – are well-designed, and even when the student has a strong intention to change.

Likewise with rider training. It’s incredibly easy to slip back into old habits within a very short time. What can be done to try to maximise the chance that the skills learned in the session are actually embedded? There are two possible solutions.

The first – also discovered by Ebbinghaus – is known as ‘over-learning’. The idea is that a particular skill is repeated over and over, beyond what would normally be seen as necessary to master it. To some extent, that is built into my courses – I tend to repeat the same ‘trigger phrases’ many times and I try to ensure that the trainee gets plenty of opportunity to work on particular skills during the session. But there’s a risk that if the trainee thinks he or she is simply repeating what’s already mastered, rather than embedding the necessary skills, the training can become boring and demotivating. U-turn practice, anyone?

The second is to repeat the training. Ebbinghaus discovered that after five re-runs, retention becomes near-perfect. This is the approach often taken by safety-critical industries like a nuclear plant.

Unfortunately, it should also be fairly obvious that when delivering my kind of one-off training course I have a bit of a problem. Unless I can persuade trainees to come back for a refresher, I generally only get to see them once. So now the onus is on the trainee to ensure that having completed the course, they actively continue to practice what was learned.

How can I encourage that? One way is to provide structured notes both before and after the course. The first lays out the content we will be covering, the second – which also offers a structured path for continued development – repeats the information in terms of “what we worked on”.

And I have a trick up my sleeve. Rather than send on the review immediately after the course, I send it ten days or so after the course. Why? If they read it next day, when their retention rate from the course is up near 100%, they skim through it, say “oh yes, I remember that”, and then promptly forget it. With the delayed review, the forgetting curve has kicked in so I’m REMINDING them of what was achieved. There is a better chance the trainee will read the notes properly and thus gain more from the feedback.

But of course, ultimately it all depends on the trainee – once they’re headed head home, if I’ve failed to drive home the ‘practice makes permanent’ point and if they think “that’s it, I’m trained now”, then there is a significant risk that in fact they’ll slither rapidly down that forgetting curve.

So, here are the takeaways.

If we accept that we can improve our riding through learning new techniques, then it’s essential that we practice to embed what we learned into long-lasting improvements to skill and confidence. And if we accept the need for practice, then break it all down into the into the simpler, relatively straightforward elements that were learned, and practice each part of the skill-set. Then move onto the next area of skills.

So if you’re reading this post-training, wherever it might be, and whoever might have trained you, ask yourself, “am I reviewing and practicing what I have learned frequently enough?” Schedule some time to go out on a regular basis, to think about your riding, give yourself a goal of a specific part of your riding to improve – and then practice, practice, practice.

Posted on

07. What’s the goal of post-test training?

This article was first written over twenty years ago and lightly updated since, but the central question it poses remains unresolved: what should post-test motorcycle training actually be for? While machines, testing regimes and training organisations have evolved — with ABS, traction control and more formalised “advanced” pathways now the norm — newly qualified riders still emerge with gaps in confidence, control and understanding.

“Do they know what they’re doing, do they know why, and are they managing risk?” is as concise and useful a training lens as any modern coaching framework. It also aligns neatly with contemporary human-factors thinking, even if I did not label it as such at the time.

The tension between rider-centred skill-building and training aimed at meeting an external standard has not gone away. If anything, it has become more important to challenge, as technology increasingly masks weaknesses rather than addressing them.

What’s the goal of post-test training?

Over the years, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the goal of training after passing the motorcycle test. Obviously we want to improve the skills and knowledge that a rider gained on basic training. But what does that really mean in terms of what we deliver? Are we looking for perfection? Or should we be looking for a pragmatic approach to riding?

When I moderated a riding skills forum, we regularly used to get requests for help with a riding issue. In one instance, the request came from a very newly qualified rider on his new motorcycle:

"I passed my test 2 weeks ago tomorrow and am really a complete novice as I'd never ridden before I started my training which was basically 3 lessons. Anyway I bought a 6 month old Thundercat as my first bike after a lot of worrying that the bike was too powerful for a 1st bike. I want to know what tips you can give to a new rider... I'm really struggling with a few things in particular:

1. setting off I'm not sure what revs to use, and find it hard to keep the throttle steady... I panic that the the front wheel is going to fly up and throw me off

2. turning into a side road I was taught to use 1st but it just doesn't feel right as I'm very jerky on the throttle

3. which brake should I use? For example on country lanes if I want to slow down from a speed above 30 ish, is it the front? I worry that wheels are going to lock and start sliding"

Now, it should be pretty obvious that we have here a rider who has clearly identified some major problems with his ability to control the machine. So I responded with a series of practical suggestions.

I referred the rider back to some of the exercises he would have performed on CBT including some very simple straight line stopping and starting exercises to help get used to the clutch on the new machine. I also advised him to use a slipping clutch when turning into side roads (what would have been taught for the U-turn exercise, so nothing new) and a reminder about basic braking technique (front first, rear second, then a progressive squeeze of the front to slow at the required rate). I also suggested that the rider look for some personalised training to fix the problems sooner rather than later.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one with advice. I generally try not to criticise other people involved in rider training too often but in this case the response of one of our IAM observers made me blow my top. He started by offering some useful – but theoretical – advice, but then qualified it by saying:

“Unless you really do feel that you can’t manage I would delay any extra training until you’ve been riding 5-6 weeks or so. You’ll be amazed at how different it will be then and you’ll get more out of any training you do.”

Of course, there’s a very big assumption there. And that’s that our wobbly novice is still in one piece after that period.

And then he suggested that at the end of this learning period the new rider would then be in a position to benefit from advanced training with the IAM.

As I’ve said many times, there are two ways of approaching rider training:

a pragmatic ‘improve what’s weak’ approach
building standard skills to test against a set riding standard

Either are valid in certain circumstances. But which is more appropriate here?

I think the answer is pretty obvious. A client-centred course, of the sort offered by the Survival Skills Confidence: BUILDER one-day training course, is more likely to address the novice rider’s needs.

The mention of the Thundercat dates the event, and since then I’ve been told “ah, but the IAM has changed a lot”. That is undoubtedly true, there has certainly been a drive to improve standards and consistency but what hasn’t changed is that the organisation still promotes a brand of training style of riding which has passing the test as its goal.

At the risk of provoking a chorus of “he would say that, wouldn’t he?”, if you think you have a problem with your riding, ask yourself where you’ll get the better support; from an independent trainer who’s prepared to focus the training on YOUR needs, or from an organisation that commits you to pursuing their own goal?