Tag: judgement

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85. How easy is instructing?

Much of the discussion around rider training focuses on what we teach — braking, steering, throttle control, positioning — and far less on how that teaching is delivered or questioned. In earlier articles, I’ve argued that riding skill is unlocked not by technique alone, but by understanding when, where and why those techniques should be applied. The same principle applies just as strongly to instructors. If training is to improve outcomes rather than simply tick boxes, we need to examine not only how riders learn, but how trainers themselves continue to develop, reflect and challenge established practice.

How easy is instructing?

Riding — and teaching riding — is arguably the most dangerous activity most of us will routinely undertake. And yet, all too often, training is delivered and received in a surprisingly blasé fashion. I’ve already touched on the dangers of rote learning at basic level, but the problem doesn’t stop there. Even at advanced level, relatively few trainees are actively encouraged to question what they are being taught. Post-test skills are commonly delivered — and accepted — on trust.

That is not, in itself, a criticism of instructors’ enthusiasm or commitment. Most instructors care deeply about their trainees and take pride in their role. However, comparatively few spend much time reflecting on what they might learn in order to become better trainers. There are, of course, notable exceptions. I have worked alongside some excellent instructors who had clearly gone well beyond the minimum, and others who were actively trying to improve. Organisations such as the IAM have also recognised this and put systems in place to raise observer standards.

At basic training level, however, the picture is less encouraging. I have long been surprised that many CBT schools invest so little time and effort in developing their instructors once they are qualified. Even allowing for the commercial realities — the pressure to move candidates efficiently from CBT to test — better training would pay dividends, not least in reduced retests, fewer problems downstream, and safer, more confident riders. One frequently cited concern is that a well-developed instructor will “jump ship” and set up their own school. That may happen occasionally, but it is a poor justification for accepting stagnation as the norm.

Part of the problem is structural. Ours is a largely solitary profession. Once past the initial training stage, even in larger schools, instructors rarely observe one another teaching. There is little cross-fertilisation of ideas, limited challenge, and few incentives to reflect critically on established practice. The results are easy to spot: instructors still insisting that trainees look over their shoulder before signalling — a habit the DSA dropped back in 1997 with the introduction of Direct Access — or basic trainers still following long-defunct CSM manuals, often third- or fourth-hand copies of material from an organisation that ceased trading in the early 2000s.

Another factor may lie in the DVSA’s own approach to check tests. For many basic trainers, these are viewed with genuine trepidation. The reason is simple: check tests are almost always experienced as critical rather than developmental. Innovation is rarely encouraged, and deviation from a narrow interpretation of “the approved way” is often discouraged. Faced with that, it is hardly surprising that instructors play safe, stick rigidly to familiar routines, and avoid experimentation or reflective practice.

Finally, there is a cultural issue. Motorcycling has always traded heavily on ideas of freedom and independence, and that can sit uneasily alongside professionalism in training. Riders’ rights groups have often opposed further training requirements as restrictive or unnecessary. Against that backdrop, it can be difficult to persuade riders that better training brings genuine benefits. And yet the evidence is there: the introduction of structured basic training, and particularly Direct Access, has significantly broadened the appeal of motorcycling — not least by encouraging far more women to take it up.

If training is to move forward, we need to accept an uncomfortable truth. Teaching riding is not just about transferring techniques. It is about developing judgement, decision-making and understanding — in trainees and instructors alike. Without a culture that values questioning, reflection and continuous improvement, training risks becoming little more than a production line, delivering certificates rather than competence.

If there is a single thread running through all of this, it is that good training is never static. Riding is a complex, high-risk activity carried out in an unpredictable environment, and it demands more than the mechanical repetition of drills. The same is true of teaching it. An instructor who simply delivers a syllabus without questioning its purpose, relevance or application is no better placed than a rider who can operate the controls but does not understand the risks they are managing.

Professionalism in rider training should not be seen as restrictive, bureaucratic or contrary to the spirit of motorcycling. On the contrary, it is what allows riders greater freedom — freedom from fear, from uncertainty, and from avoidable mistakes. Encouraging instructors to reflect, to learn from one another, and to keep their knowledge current is not an optional extra; it is a safety intervention.

Ultimately, better-trained instructors create better-thinking riders. And better-thinking riders are not just more skilful — they are better equipped to survive in the real world, where judgment matters far more than any single technique ever could.

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83. Using goals to defeat anxiety

The longer I’ve been involved in rider training, the more I have come to realise that a focus on the purely mechanical side of riding (the use of the brakes, the throttle, the gears, balance and steering etc) is more or less useless without a full understanding of how, where, when and why those skills should be used. In short, mechanical skills determine what a rider can do but mental skills determine what a rider will do — and whether they do it at the right time, for the right reason, in the right place. This thinking aligns with the use of outcome, performance and process goals from sports psychology and contemporary thinking on workload management, stress and attentional control. We just need to make it mainstream in riding and driving.

Using goals to defeat anxiety

Some time ago, a rider came online and posted a tale of woe about his regular commute. It was, it seemed, all going horribly wrong. After a couple of years of relatively trouble-free riding, he been badly scared by some near misses in the past few weeks and was seriously thinking of giving up biking altogether as “too dangerous”.

OK, so let’s ask a question. Is riding really dangerous? Well, if we simply look at the comparative figures for different modes of transport then riding a motorcycle is around 30 to 40 times more likely to end in a fatal crash than if we drive a car over the same distance.

However, in terms of how likely we are on an individual basis to be killed, then the risk is actually pretty low. For the last few years, the annual number of fatalities has hovered between 300 and 350. Still too many but given there are anything between one and two million active powered two-wheeler riders, the risk’s not that extreme. A bit of perspective always helps when it comes to risk.

But even so, it’s a good idea to tilt the odds somewhat to our side, and we can do that in a number of ways. Once more, I’m going to dip into Sports Psychology by talking about outcome goals, performance goals and process goals.

Our overall ‘outcome goal’ represents the big picture and in this case it’s to get to work and to return home again. Our ‘performance goal’ is how we’re going to achieve that and we might say it’s to maintain situational awareness and an effective risk management strategy over the whole of the ride. But how do we reach our performance goal? How do we break our journey down into manageable, bite-sized chunks?

Think about a batsman in cricket. His outcome goal is probably to help his team post a big score, and his performance goal might be to make one hundred runs. But stood at the crease when the bowling is good and it’s hard to stay in, let alone score runs, that goal’s a long way off. It’s easy for it to see impossibly far off, rather like getting home safely seemed to the worried rider.

How would the batsman cope with the pressure. One way is to set PROCESS GOALS. These are the small steps via interim goals we take to move step-by-step towards our performance and outcome goals. The batsman might decide first of all to survive until the first bowling change which brings on a weaker bowler. Having achieved that, he might decide that he will aim to stay put for the first ten overs. And having made it that far he might start to aim to score ten runs as his next goal. Then another ten. Then ten more. (If I’d known about this technique myself, my-best ever batting score in quite a few years of playing cricket might have exceeded 19!)

So how can we transfer that to riding? Well, if we’re on a regular ride which is getting on top of us, we can break it down into sections. Reaching the first major junction. Getting out of the 30 limit. Reaching the motorway. Getting off the motorway again. Negotiating the rural roads to get home. Whatever represents your own journey.

The important points are that process goals are entirely under our control and they break down a task that might appear overwhelming when view in toto, into smaller and much more achievable chunks where we can focus on specific aspects of each task – maybe negotiating a busy cross roads, dealing with a known slippery corner, finding our way around a complex roundabout. At each stage, we mentally reboot for the next section of the journey.

Viewed one at a time as individual tasks, an overwhelming outcome goal suddenly seem much more achievable.

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82. Input, Processing & Output – the necessary steps within a ‘system’

A riding system exists to support decision-making, and is worth nothing without that understanding. It’s also worth pointing out that IPSGA, the Police System, is heavily weighted toward outputs which can lead some misunderstandings about where the effort should be placed. This is another article which expanded out of my investigations into ‘Spidey Sense’.

Input, Processing & Output – the necessary steps within a ‘system’

Exactly what IS a ‘riding system’? How does it work, and what is it meant to achieve? Those are sound questions because only by answering them will a riding system be an effective tool.

In short, it helps us link our answer to the “What IF…?” question we asked about what we observed to “…then THIS” response that explains what we’re going to do about it. So a system consists of three sequential phases:

INPUT
PROCESSING
OUTPUT

That’s all a riding system is; to be able to use one is not the goal in itself, since a riding system – ANY system – is only there to help us enhance our situational awareness and make better and more reliable proactive decisions to the events developing around us.

If you think about that for a moment, you may already have spotted the weakness in the Police System – ‘Information Position Speed Gear Acceleration’. Position, speed, gear and acceleration are all outputs. The equally important components of the system, the INPUT and PROCESSING stages, are all compressed into ‘information’.

By structuring the system so that it culminates in Position, Speed, Gear and Acceleration, there’s a real risk users end up placing too much emphasis on the importance of those outputs, with a consequent under-emphasis on the importance of the input “gathering information” and processing stages, and that’s likely to result in a flawed result. In computer programming terms, “garbage in, garbage out”. Our riding plan may be worth nothing if our choice is based on incomplete inputs or faulty processing.

Moreover, with IPSGA implicitly biasing riders toward action — particularly visible or measurable action — it subtly presupposes that evaluation must result in a physical intervention. That’s not surprising since the original police ‘seven point’ system from the old Blue Book version of Motorcycle Roadcraft showed how to use it to make left and right turns. Indeed, my own belief is that IPSGA was primarily designed as an ASSESSMENT tool first and foremost, to allow instructors to check whether their trainees were doing what they were supposed to do.

The fact is, a physical intervention is not always the best — or even a necessary — outcome. Two important points:

First, doing nothing can be a deliberate, skilled output. Choosing to hold speed, maintain position, keep a neutral throttle and simply observe is not a failure of decision-making; it is often the result of good evaluation. In uncertain or ambiguous situations, the safest and most information-rich response may be to delay commitment, increase vigilance, and allow the situation to resolve itself. That is still execution — just not a mechanical one.

Second, evaluation is often about buying time, not spending it. Many hazards do not demand immediate control inputs. They demand attention, patience and monitoring. For example, a vehicle edging at a junction, a pedestrian near the kerb, or an oncoming driver whose intentions are unclear may all trigger a “Spidey Sense” response — but the correct execution may simply be “watch closely, cover the controls, and wait”. This aligns perfectly with the “What if…? Then this…!” model, where the “Then this…” can legitimately be “no change yet”.

It’s important to see that the output phase of any plan can be defined as any conscious decision, including:

  • holding a stable plan,

  • maintaining space and options,

  • or deliberately postponing action until more information is available.

Whether we follow IPSGA, SEE or any other system, it’s important to realise that the goal of a riding system is not always movement, but only ever an appropriate response — and sometimes the most appropriate response is simply to keep watching and let the picture develop.

The information stage of IPSGA is sometimes divided into three sub-stages which are ‘Take’, ‘Use’ and ‘Give’, with the information element ‘stretched’ over the PSGA outputs to imply that new information is available at all times, and that plans need to remain flexible. Structurally, it’s all become a bit of a mess.

That’s why I personally prefer and teach the US Motorcycle Safety Foundation’s SEARCH EVALUATE EXECUTE approach. The three stages match the input – processing – output structure of a system far more exactly, and they can be applied cyclically; we collect information, we consider it and form a plan, we go ahead and carry it out, and then we check the results to see if they are working or if the situation calls for a revised plan.

In particular, the EVALUATE stage matches the “What if…?” “Then this…!” question and answer I talked about in the last article. We use what we see (or hear or smell or even feel) to provide the input which the “What if…?” “Then this…!” routine then processes. Only when we have the “Then this…!” answer in our head can we actually make a decision about position, speed, gear and acceleration.

Finally, here’s something else to consider – if we’re more concerned with demonstrating that we know how to use a plan – by showing off our ‘position, speed, gear and acceleration’ – then the routine has become more important than outcome. Systems are there to serve us, not to control us.

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75. Apex or Exit – what’s important when cornering?

I have little to add to add to this except to say that twenty years on from penning this article, riders are still obsessing over finding the apex on the road, when that’s really not what matters. Waiting until we can clearly see where the road leads beyond the bend is what allows us to select the line that copes with mid-corner threats and avoid the classic ‘turn-in too early, run wide later’ cornering error.

Apex or Exit – what’s important when cornering?

Back in the summer of 2006, I was seduced by a magazine’s big cover splash promising “Twenty pages on cornering faster”. Despite reading it cover-to-cover, I could only find a couple of pages on cornering technique. The remaining eighteen pages were thinly-veiled adverts for expensive aftermarket accessories or services to get the bike tweaked. Anyway, cynicism aside, the two pages on riding were the valuable content because the best bolt-on accessory on any bike is the rider, and the most cost-effective tweaks we can do are to our own skills. A good rider can still corner well on a wallowing hippo of a machine. But all the bolt-on bling in the world won’t turn an incompetent owner into Valentino Rossi or Marc Marquez. It’s depth of wisdom, not depth of wallet, that helps us to good cornering out on the road.

So what did the article say? Well the writer spent a lot of time talking about “finding the apex”. You may be wondering what the apex of a corner actually is, because it’s a word bandied around with some freedom when talking about corners. Think of a triangle – stand it upright – the pointy bit at the top is the apex. Now, connect the three points with a smooth curved line and the point at the top is still the apex. If we now give that curved line some width, so it becomes a road, the apex is where the point of that triangle touches the inside of the corner halfway round.

On a race track, where we can use all of the surface, if we start on the OUTSIDE of the corner and if we also exit on the OUTSIDE of the corner, by just touching the INSIDE of the track halfway through the turn – the apex of the triangle – we take the maximum radius (and thus the fastest) ‘racing line’ through the corner. So if the corner is a nice symmetrical one, the apex is ‘mid-corner’, halfway round the bend.

What about ‘early’ or ‘late’ apexes, two more terms you’re likely to hear in any discussion about riding a track? An early apex comes before we are half-way though the corner, and generally indicates an increasing radius turn – the corner opens out. A late apex comes after we are half-way through the corner and may indicate a decreasing radius turn – a corner that gets progressively tighter. On the track, we learn our lines by going round and round until it all flows nicely. Even on a blind corner on the track, we learn to use marker points (which is why they put cones out on track training sessions) to guide us round.

But the road is not a track, and this ‘racing line’ which may be the fastest way around the track, is not a great idea on the road where we have to deal with a number of other problems. For starters, we don’t get the chance to learn a bend by going round it over and over, and we don’t get markers (at least, not handy cones). We have to ride it as we see it, which isn’t easy when most of the corners on UK roads are blind – that is, we can’t see all the way through them from beginning to end. Aiming for an apex where we cannot see out the other side of the corner isn’t a great idea – we could end up turning-in too early, which inevitably leads to running wide later in the corner.

But even when we can see right through the corner, cutting into the apex on a right-hander brings us into close proximity to oncoming vehicles. And on a left-hander, cutting into the apex puts us close to where there might be hidden turnings and driveways on our nearside.

As it happens, the way to learn a track (if the handy cones are absent) is to work backwards. We start by finding the direction we want to be headed on the way out of a bend – the ‘exit’. Keith Code’s definition of the exit is a good one to work with – it’s where we can put the power on as hard as we like. Once we know where we want to be pointed at the exit, then we can find the line backwards to the ‘apex’, and from there back to the ‘turn-in’ point where we would cut across the track to clip the apex, and ultimately back from the turn-in point back to the ‘entry’ which is where the corner forces us to steer or run off the track.

On the road, as I explain in the articles on ‘Point and Squirt’, the solution is to delay turning-in to the corner to the point where we can clearly see through the exit and where the road goes BEYOND the end of the corner. So if – as is likely – our view around the corner is obscured, we simply stay on a wide line around the outside of the curve until we CAN see the exit – where we’re pointed where we want to go next and can accelerate in a straight line, remember. Only when we reach this point do we decide if we should turn-in tighter, aiming to cut across the lane and exit the corner in as straight a line as possible, and this is the key to corners on the road – staying wide in the turn till we can actually see the exit.

Get this right and we avoid almost all ‘running wide in the corner’ errors whilst the apex looks after itself – it’s not something we need to worry about. In fact, far from being an aid to cornering on the road, the apex is a red herring and even a distraction from focusing on the exit and the mid-corner hazards I mentioned a moment ago. For good cornering on the road, simply ignore any debate about the apex.

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74. Overtaking on left-handers – experts only or best avoided?

Some things don’t seem to change. And how motorcyclists kill themselves is one of those things. I said in the article that “half of out-of-town fatalities result from overtakes that go wrong” is valid, and the data that the UK’s DfT continues to collect reinforces this point. Overtaking generally is rarely ‘necessary’, and overtaking around a left-hand bend is even less so. Remember, in most cases a better, safer opportunity will appear within moments.

Overtaking on left-handers – experts only or best avoided?

Back in 2005 and 2006, one of the best series of articles on advanced riding techniques was penned by Andy Morrison from Rapid Training, and published in Bike magazine. But when he talked about the technique of overtaking in left-handers in February 2006, I think he went the proverbial ‘bridge too far’. He stated plainly enough that it’s dangerous but then goes on to assert that it’s a manoeuvre within the grasp of the expert rider. The article gave the impression that all that’s needed is a high level of technical skill and judgement yet whatever dissenting voices might say, there is something every one of us should understand: contrary to claims elsewhere, overtaking is NEVER, EVER ‘safe’. Even if we can be reasonably sure WE won’t make a mistake, when overtaking there are always other humans involved and one thing we can be sure of is that humans can and DO make errors. An overtake ALWAYS exposes us to the risk of someone else’s mistake.

I read the article and the first thing that struck me was that it focused on technical execution. Yet to my mind, understanding that the skills to carry out a tricky overtake are complex is far less important than developing our understanding of risk and our ability to see that technically complicated manoeuvres are more likely to go wrong. It’s our ability to make a realistic risk assessment that allows us to place a manoeuvre on the risk / benefit scale. To my mind, for a relatively limited benefit, this one is far over towords the risky end. We really need to understand the difference between ‘need’ and ‘nice’.

Overtaking generally sits further towards the ‘nice to do’ end of the spectrum than the ‘need to do’ end – it’s very rarely an absolute ‘must-do’. You may have heard people say that “if I didn’t overtake, I might as well not be on a bike”, or that “I overtake because I want to demonstrate I can make progress”.

Personally, I think they are deeply flawed reasons. My own thinking – based on that risk / benefit calculation – is that we need to balance the risks that might arise through making the overtake, with the risks of staying put. If there’s no particular problem with following – for example, when moving in a steady stream of traffic – the less-risky option is nearly always choosing NOT to pass.

I’d suggest that overtaking only begins to move towards the ‘need to do’ end of the scale if sitting behind a vehicle puts us at greater risk than making the overtake. Maybe we’re following a tractor on a rural road, when a queue of traffic begins to form behind us. If a relatively straightforward opportunity to pass arises and we don’t take it, we are now part of the problem. The chances are that someone will try to overtake both the tractor and our bike. That makes the overtake more difficult for the driver, and potentially increases our own risk. So if we can see a way to set up an overtake in such a way to minimise the risk, does that tip the balance? Perhaps. The crux of the matter is “if we can see a way to set up an overtake in such a way to minimise the risk”. Too many overtakes are assessed from the “what do I gain” perspective first, with risk trailing a very poor second.

And so we come to overtaking out of left-hand bend. Compared with setting up a pass out of a right-hand corner, overtaking out of a left hand bend generates a lot of “What ifs…?” that aren’t easy to answer.

We start by setting up the overtake by sitting to the nearside, looking up the inside of the vehicle ahead. The article pointed out problems of dead ground (that is, the areas that are blind to our search) but however thorough our search, we need to be absolutely clear that if we cannot see over the vehicle, there’s a blind spot ahead of it on the offside. As we move out to the right to commit to the pass, that blindspot doesn’t go away – it simply moves. There is ALWAYS this blind spot.

Some years ago, I watched a rider set up exactly this pass around a sweeping left-hand bend from the car. His line-of-sight up the nearside was good, but he couldn’t see what I could, thanks to my driving position offset to the right. It was the local postie climbing into his bright red post office van that was pulled up in a layby on the other side of the road. As the rider moved across behind the truck, the post office van started to move forward. The rider came out from behind the truck just as the PO van moved into the road.

And of course, if a vehicle could pull out, the one we’re overtaking could turn in, and we may not be aware of the turning for the same reason. This is another point I always make – overtaking ALWAYS relies on the driver we’re passing to do what we predict. Setting up an overtake where we’re visible in the driver’s interior or right-hand door mirror means that there’s at least a chance the driver will know we’re there. But sat to the nearside of the vehicle we’re about to pass, not only are we far more difficult to see, few drivers would expect to find us overtaking around the outside a moment later. We really do need to hang back long enough to clear the view right along our path and eliminate any openings.

And there’s a further problem. It’s the pesky extra warning about making sure the road not just clear but that we can “expect it to remain clear”. The neatly-drawn diagrams in the magazine showed how the rider would need to ‘visually sweep’ the road ahead of the lorry before attempting the overtake. Although the text talked about “far enough ahead” the diagrams showed a distance of just a couple of lorry-lengths. I know the diagrams were drawn distorted to make the point (rather like the ones showing how a wider position gives a better view in ‘Motorcycle Roadcraft’), and Andy did mention the danger of meeting an oncoming car head-on, but what wasn’t emphasised was just HOW far ahead we need to see.

Let’s do a few quick sums. Let’s assume the truck is travelling at 45 mph. That’s 20 metres per second. Let’s assume we pass the truck at 60 mph – we’re thus travelling 15 mph faster than the truck (6.7 m/s). Assuming a typical HGV (16.5 metres long), it’ll take us approximately 2.5 seconds to travel from front to rear. In that time – whilst we are riding at 60 mph or 27 m/s remember – we’ve travelled no less than 67.5 metres.

But of course, we have to move out and move back again. The total distance travelled during the entire manoeuvre is not going to be less than three times 67.5 metres, so to accelerate, pass and tuck back again, we’re looking at a minimum total distance of around 200 metres.

Except we need treble this distance.

Why? What about the effect on other road users when we pop out from behind a truck and the oncoming driver suddenly sees us? Assuming the car is coming the other way at the same speed we’re making the pass and we want to move out, make the pass, then manoeuvre back with a minimum MARGIN FOR ERROR between us, we actually need to COMPLETE the overtake in around one-third of the total “distance we can see to be clear”. So the minimum distance we actually need FROM THE MOMENT WE COMMIT is AT LEAST 600 metres – that’s over one-third of a mile. And we’re now mentally juggling with speeds and distances at which the human brain struggles to make accurate computations.

Of course, to make up for the lack of forward view, the temptation is to nail it. But the faster we attempt to make the pass, the more difficult it is to bail out when it starts going wrong.

My take on this is not to hurry into such an overtake. We definitely shouldn’t underestimate the the difficulties of seeing far enough ahead and the blind areas. Technical ability is NOT a substitute for sound judgement. In practice, I’d suggest only the shallowest left hand bends with the very best views allow a reasonably risk-free overtake past the slowest-moving vehicles, which brings us full-circle to whether an overtake is ‘need’ or ‘nice’.

What was left pretty much unsaid was that a better opportunity will probably come along in a minute. I intensely dislike this ‘take every available opportunity’ approach to riding. It may be appropriate to police riding, but I doubt the validity for civvie riding, even at ‘advanced’ level.

Most of all, I was concerned at its publication in a magazine, where Andy had no control over the riders reading the article. It’s an issue I’m very aware of when writing my own riding tips of my own, and even when delivering my own Survival Skills advanced motorcycle training courses. It’s why each tip tends to have exhaustive discussions of the risks as well as an explanation of benefits.

Statistics show that around half of out-of-town fatalities result from overtakes that go wrong, so to my mind we should be eliminating the technically-tricky ones with the highest potential for going wrong. I’m certainly not going to say I’ve never overtaken in a left-hander but I can definitely say there have been a few times I wished I hadn’t bothered.

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71. Off-siding – a technique that crosses the line?

The crucial decision here is to balance risk versus benefit, the potential gain in situational awareness versus the real possibility of putting ourselves in a dangerous position. The perception of our manoeuvre from the other driver’s perspective is all-too-often completely overlooked. However, that doesn’t mean we should never consider taking up a position on the other side of the centre line and hazards such as narrow single-lane bridges can create real vision problems if we don’t exploit the full width of the road.

Off-siding – a technique that crosses the line?

I originally wrote this tip as an expanded response incorporating questions being asked by a nearly-new rider. With a year’s experience since passing the bike test, he was shown the technique of ‘offsiding’ on a riding assessment. If you’re not familiar with the term, offsiding is positioning to the RIGHT of the centre line (here in the UK) to improve the view ahead, rather keeping within our own lane. I remember being told many years ago that “you’ve paid to use all the road – so do so”. I’m not implying he was being encouraged to use this position but many riders do, myself included on rare occasions – I’ll explain the limited circumstances in a moment. In the time I’ve been involved in rider training offsiding seems to have gone from a technique that was generally accepted “but do it carefully” to one that’s generally frowned upon as “controversial and we really shouldn’t”. So what’s the right answer? Is there ever a time when it’s a good idea to cross the centre line to gain a view?

Before we go any further, we need to sort out if it’s legal. So long as the centre line is broken – that is, we’re looking at crossing either the short lane divider markings or the longer hazard line, it’s not illegal – we can cross a broken centre line. But we could end up on the wrong side of the law if we’re seen to be riding carelessly or even dangerously – in the case of a longer hazard line, the Highway Code says we can cross the line “if safe and necessary to do so”. Much will depend on who is interpreting ‘safe and necessary’. My view may not be the same as that of a policeman or magistrate.

If we can say “yes, it’s legal”, my approach on Survival Skills advanced motorcycle rider training courses is always to get trainees to ask two questions in order to perform a basic cost / benefit analysis:

  1. what are the benefits

  2. what are the risks?

The usual benefit that is proposed is extra vision – the further right we move:

  • the further we can see ahead around a blind bend to the left

  • the more we can open up a view into a blind area on the left

  • if we can see further, we may also be seen from further away

Let’s start with the the blind bend, and the idea that we can open up the view from riding right of the centre line. What about the risks? The most obvious one is in riding along the ‘wrong’ side of the carriageway, sooner or later we WILL meet someone coming the other way. As we’re on the same side of the road, we’re on a collision course.

It should be fairly obvious we need to be able to return to our side of the road WELL BEFORE the other vehicle gets anywhere near us. But if we have this kind of clear space, isn’t it likely we’re already seeing a long way ahead? What exactly are we adding? As I’ve said elsewhere, the practical reason for extending “the distance we can see to be clear and expect to remain clear” is nearly always to carry more speed. Whilst speed might be essential as part of a police rider’s pursuit activities, it’s NOT part of the remit for an ordinary civvie rider.

If there’s a bit of a question about the advantage, what about the disadvantages? A bit more thinking should reveal some real problems:

  • the shock experienced by the oncoming driver who finds a motorcycle on the wrong side of the road in front of him

  • the need not just to get back left of the centre line, but to shed any extra speed too

Let’s reverse the position. If we were rounding a right-hand bend and suddenly found a car approaching on the wrong side of the centre line, how would WE respond? Would we be thinking calmly: “ah, advanced driver doing a bit of off-siding”? Would we be thinking at all? What’s the chance we’d respond with a WTF and a panic grab of the brakes? I rather think it would be the latter. And what if we panic-swerved too, to our right into the other lane and away from the car? What happens next? This confusion alone is a very good reason to avoid offsiding into a blind corner – we should always avoid putting ourselves into situations where our safety depends on other road users behaving reliably. Even if we don’t scare the bejasus out of the driver, we still have to return to our side of the centre line. A typical response is along the lines of: “I only off-side at a speed that allows me to return to my side of the road in time”. But what if the other driver is going a bit quicker than usual? What if the oncoming driver has cut the corner to straighten it out? Check out the worn paint on the middle of a lot of fast kinks – the reason it’s worn is vehicles straight-lining that bend.

And if we were carrying more speed towards the corner to exploit the better view, we now have to get rid of it. Have we got enough space to do so? And if we’ve had to cut back to the left closer to the bend, does that means we’ve just turned into the corner too early? And is there a risk we’ll now run wide later in the bend? ‘Turn-in too early, run wide later’ is a classic bike cornering crash accident so why take a line that could actually precipitate this error? About the daftest ‘benefit’ to offsiding I’ve heard is that “you get a longer braking distance because you’re not directly behind the vehicle in front”. Eh? Have a think about that for a moment. What if something comes the other way? Could we now safely return to our side of the road and slow down before running into that vehicle going the same way? I’m baffled by the thinking here, and if I feel my braking distance is being compromised by the vehicle ahead, I’ll open up space ahead, and probably slow down too.

If the argument FOR offsiding towards a blind left-hand bend is that we have plenty of space to deal with the above problems, then we can make an argument AGAINST offsiding that our view around the left-hander probably isn’t that bad in the first place. And the sharper the left-hander, the less the benefit but the greater the risks.

However, there is a time I will CONSIDER offsiding approaching a left-hand bend, and that is where an off-side position will MAINTAIN a view that I already have – that is, I can already see clearly and by crossing the centre line I avoid losing the view ahead. It’s sometimes possible that as we exit one corner – typically but not always a right-hander, we can see round the following left-hander, usually because it’s a gentle kink.

For example, on one of my training routes we encounter a narrow single lane bridge. As we exit the previous right-hand bend, we actually have a long view ahead, across the bridge and for around 400 metres further down the road. So if we turn IMMEDIATELY onto the ‘wrong’ side of the road we MAINTAIN the view that we already had, as we ride up to and over the bridge, and we can see if there are oncoming vehicles we might have to give way to.

But if we don’t offside, and do the conventional thing and remain in the left-hand lane, the view ahead gets cut off by the hedge. Now the bridge is blind, and we have to ‘pop out’ from behind it to GAIN the view over the bridge at the last second. In this case, the long forward view beyond the bridge more than compensates for any potential hazards from oncoming vehicles – we have ample time to ‘see and be seen’ and we can move back if necessary – there’s also a chance the driver coming the other way will give way to us.

So if by moving to the right of it we can MAINTAIN the view we already have, then there is an argument for offsiding. But early planning is essential. What I nearly always see in this kind of situation is that riders take too long to work out the lines-of-sight, then move too late, often only when they realise they have lost the view. Now we are attempting to REGAIN it. It’s risky because even if it’s only takes a couple of seconds, that’s a couple of seconds we’ve been riding blind. Sometimes, riders will anticipate a right of the centre line position could open up a view and move to GAIN it, but move far too late. Now the risk is we might gain a close-up view of the front of a Scania – something we didn’t really want to see.

There’s one last case. I mentioned that crossing the centre line can open up a view into a blind area on the left, and that may help someone see us coming:

a driver about to pull out of the blind area to see us coming. The roads are littered with blind driveways, entrances and side turnings, and sometimes I will spot a particularly risky one. I could slow right down just in case a vehicle started to emerge, but I could also slow down AND move to the right if the view ahead and behind shows the road is free of traffic

approaching a left-hand bend with a car parked on my side of the road on the corner. It’s a situation not dissimilar to the bridge I mentioned earlier – by moving right early, I MAINTAIN the best possible view around the parked car, and give the oncoming driver the best chance of spotting me coming. What I don’t want to do is pop out jack-in-the-box style, and GAIN a view only to meet someone head-on

So, to sum up…

…there are some occasions when I will cross the centre line. But it’s always tempered by the realisation that whilst I am in control of my own speed and position, I cannot control how the driver coming the other way reacts. I also have to distinguish between the advantages of ‘maintaining’ a view and the risks of attempting to ‘gain’ a view.

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70. Overtaking, lifesavers and following distances

Crash stats don’t lie. Overtaking continues to be one of the most hazardous manoeuvres a rider can perform. The core message that mirror checks alone are insufficient and that well-timed blind spot checks can provide critical and complementary information remains an important one. The coming trend towards technology such as blind spot warning systems may assist us, but I very much doubt they can fully replace these fundamental techniques. Since overtaking is inherently high-risk, anything that reduces the threat should be considered.

Overtaking, lifesavers and following distances

My position on ANY technique that we use whilst on the bike is that it should IMPROVE safety by reducing risk. Or to put it another way, if a technique increases our exposure to risk it’s worth asking if we should be using it. Overtaking is inherently high risk. However good we are, we can only reduce those risks, we cannot make overtaking ‘safe’. Think about it. It’s about the only accident we’d ever accelerate into. But we’re also involving other human beings, and humans don’t always behave predictably. Ovetakes often go wrong when the driver we’re planning on passing does something we didn’t expect. And now we’re carrying a lot of speed. And of course, no matter how fast we think we are, there’s always someone quicker. And they might just possibly be planning on ovetaking too. We need up to date situational awareness before we commit ourselves to an overtake.

A regular ‘advanced riding’ debate is: “should the rider perform a ‘lifesaver’ before pulling out to pass another vehicle?”

As with any question like that, the answer revolves around what we’re attempting to achieve. As explained in another article, the ‘lifesaver’ is a final over-the-shoulder blind spot check that we make before moving sideways into a position where there might possibly be another vehicle.

The debate hinges on whether or not we can rely fully on what is sometimes called ‘mirror history’. The theory is that if we check our mirrors often enough, we’ll have spotted another vehicle catching us, and we’ll know that there is nothing in our blindspot.

Here’s the issue as I see it. Here’s the upside. If we DO check, and there’s something there, we can abort our manoeuvre. And if there’s nothing there, we’ve taken our eyes off the road ahead for a second or so to take the look. Does that really matter? Not unless we’re very close to the vehicle ahead, or we’re trying to squeeze the pass into the tightest possible opportunity.

But what if we’re relying on the mirrors? However often we look in the mirror it can only tell us what’s behind us, not what’s alongside in the blind spot.If we spotted something in the mirrors, then we abort the manoeuvre. But if we didn’t spot the vehicle in one or more of our mirror checks, WE DON’T KNOW IT’S THERE. Now the danger is that we commit ourselves into the overtake and put ourselves at risk.

The real problem is that we have limited attention, and the busier the road gets, the less likely we are to make our mirror checks frequent enough to fill in information about what’s catching us from behind. As one contributor put it:

“I find there are some situations where I think a shoulder check is essential and some where they aren’t needed. It all depends on the complexity of predicting the future. If you have gathered a stable but dynamic, developing ‘picture’ of the space around you from the information gathered in the period before the manouevre – other traffic, behaviour, speeds – and can confidently predict that nothing will adversely affect the manoeuvre… then you make the move without a shoulder check. If the situation is one of high complexity then you make the check.”

In essence, I agree. But given the human propensity for making mistakes, I’d have to be very, VERY certain there was nothing around me NOT to do one. Positions of vehicles change very fast and we need up-to-the-minute situational awareness, and it’s debateable whether mirrors alone can ever provide this.

Look at it this way. We wouldn’t rely on three or four glimpes of the road through a tall hedge before deciding it was safe to drive straight out of a minor road. We’d take a final look before committing ourselves. Mirror checks give us the rearward equivalent of these glimpses. Only a shoulder check can show us directly what is actually IN the blind spot.

On a single carriageway, at least we know where the danger’s coming from – behind us. But on multilane roads, it could be from either side. In the middle lane, a vehicle will come up fast on the nearside, then swoop across behind us, switching to the outside lane. There’s a significant risk that any checks in the right mirror will not have spotted this vehicle. Even if we’ve made mirror checks to the nearside, it’s unlikely we’ve spotted what’s happening unless we look at just the right moment. This can also happen as we pass the ‘on ramp’ on a motorway or dual carriageway. And drivers also move up into, then sit in the blind spot so we can’t see them either in the mirror or peripheral vision. The only way to see is via a blind spot check. In either case, all that’s needed is a quick ‘chin-to-shoulder’ glance into the blind spot before we commit ourselves.

So if looking into the blind spot can only have positive effects on our situational awareness, what’s the objection?

“It’s potentially dangerous if the car ahead suddenly slows down.”

That’s easily answered. If the car ahead slowing down instantly puts us at risk, we’re too close. No arguments. No “if’s”, “but’s” or “maybe’s”. If the car ahead slows and we are instantly put at risk, it doesn’t matter where we’re looking – it could have been in the mirror. We should have been further back, no matter we’re looking to be in the ‘overtaking’ position. If we can’t look away from the car’s brake lights, we are too close. And what’s less obvious is that if we’re in the least bit worried about running into the car ahead, we’re not going to be giving our overtaking planning full attention! It’s a form of target fixation.

“A lifesaver takes too long.”

Someone once quoted two seconds as “the time it takes to look behind”. That shows a bit of a misunderstanding about WHERE we’re looking. There’s more about this in another tip, but we’re only looking into the blind area, not ‘behind’. If we combine our final mirror check (and you ARE going to make one, aren’t you?) with the over-the-shoulder lifesaver, it doesn’t actually take all that much longer than the mirror check alone – try it.

You may see it as a ‘belt and braces’ approach, and you might argue that if we’ve got a good belt, we don’t need braces. Maybe, but belts do slip and then we might be very glad to have the braces to hold our trousers up.

One of my least favourite expressions is “if I didn’t overtake, I might as well be driving a car”, as if a motorcycle is an automatic licence to overtake.

It’s hard to Personally, I believe that there’s nothing more dangerous that we do on a bike than overtaking.

So I tend to think that everything we do that decreases risk when overtaking is a good idea. And one of those good ideas is knowing what’s behind you, which is probably the area that most riders forget to check! “After all”, they reason – “if you are overtaking you’re going faster so the hazard must be in front of you, no?”

Well, actually, no! If you’re thinking about an overtake, so will someone else be. The most obvious candidate is another bike but there are plenty of cars out there these days with stunning acceleration – ask Jeremy Clarkson!

Given the ever-more crowded state of the roads, the chances of an overtake being completely free of oncoming traffic is going down every day – you need more attention AHEAD of the vehicle you’re planning to pass and behind you too, not less by worrying about running into it.

It’s been claimed that looking behind takes too long. Some quoted two seconds

Half the reason for this argument on the issue is that many riders still think that a lifesaver is a long look behind. That was what riders were supposed to do until fairly recently, thanks to the DSA’s reluctance to acknowledge bikes had mirrors till the late 90s, but it’s really not necessary. A lifesaver is simply a chin-to-shoulder blind spot check timed before an important change of position, into a potentially dangerous position. In other words, it’s the timing rather than the action.

It’s simple enough to combine a mirror check and follow through straight into a blind spot glance. Your head check has now filled in the entire picture alongside and behind. I really cannot see why people are so against the idea of doing them. If it’s timed correctly it’s no more dangerous than looking in the mirror.

Whilst I’m on overtakes, I’ll comment on the habit of moving up to a very close “overtaking” position behind the vehicle ahead when looking for an overtake. It’s recommended by police instructors and can be seen demonstrated on the Bikesafe 2000 video. For my liking, that position is far too close – at one point on that otherwise excellent video, there is barely a single hazard line between the bike and the car ahead. Even their safer “following” position is about half the distance I’d like to keep between me and another vehicle.

So, I’d double the distances shown in that video – my following position would be around the 2 second minimum safe distance, and my closer up overtaking position around 1 second back.

Whilst it’s true that the holding a more distant 1 second “overtaking” position means you are accelerating from a greater distance, with good timing you don’t need to twist the throttle so hard because you can get something of a “run” at the overtake. Hanging back further allows you to catch up in the final part of the corner, and often makes it easier to pass without excessive speed or any wasted time. If you are too close, it’s hard to accelerate before you are wide and clear, which tends to lead to big throttle openings.

In reality, if you overtake from further back, what you have to avoid is carrying too much speed into the overtake. If a situation starts to develop that looks awkward, you may have to pull back in. If you can’t pull back in, you are passing with too much speed. You should pass slowly enough that you can bail out if you need to. I can’t begin to say how many times I’ve been in the middle of a pass and something goes wrong that I’ve had to brake to avoid, and I don’t just mean misjudgements on my part – but brain out manoeuvres by the other driver.

If you yo-yo between the close “overtaking” position and the more laid back “following” position, you need to think how incredibly distracting that can be to the driver you are trying to pass, particularly if you have lights on. And something else that’s rarely mentioned is that as soon as you move up, the car behind YOU maintains their own “is that a fly on that bike’s numberplate?” following position, so dropping back becomes problematic, if not potentially dangerous – another reason for not getting too close in the “overtaking position” and finding yourself the meat in a sandwich.

Following too close through a bend is a mistake too, as most drivers decelerate until they can see their way out of a corner – if you’re too close, that means you decelerate too and end up at lower revs than you meant to.

Slow + high gear = longer time to make the pass when you finally go.

Another factor which is frequently ignored is that cars are massively more powerful than they were even 10 years ago. Even something that looks like it ought to trundle out of a corner like a massive 4×4 can often accelerate pretty quickly. Yes bikes are faster too, so we end up using ever higher speeds to make up the pass.

Even a good overtake is potentially dangerous – so it makes sense to make them as safe as we can, not to risk all on a hurried and botched pass.

There are two problems, if you discount the obvious one of failing to look often enough. Working out speed and distance – and then deciding when that vehicle will arrive along side you. to do this

You’ll need to look into the blind spot to see the bike or car that comes up so quickly that you don’t spot it between regular checks. Do some sums. At 60mph you’re travelling around 27 metres per second. Say you check your mirrors every 5 seconds (and that’s pretty enthusiastic mirror checking, too) – in that distance you’ve travelled around 130m.

Now, what if there is a bike (or possibly even a police car) doing 120mph coming up behind you? If you check your mirrors four times at 5 second intervals, with the final check when it’s along side you, the first time you check it’ll be over 500m back – more than a quarter of a mile. There’s not that much chance you’ll spot it – think about how mirrors make things look further away!

Second check and it’s now 270m back – that’s still more than the length of two football pitches – there’s a pretty good chance you still won’t see it if there is a lot of other traffic in the lane.

Next check will be when it’s 135m behind you. Sounds easy enough to spot, but if it’s in the same lane, and there is another vehicle close behind you, will you see it? And even if you do, if you didn’t see it in either of the two earlier checks then what you don’t know is how fast it’s going.

On your fourth check, the car/bike is alongside you. Scary.

Another problem with mirror history that you may find on a

So, things can change very fast indeed on motorways. Even if you think you know what’s there and it’s going to stay there, you might be wrong. Read this:

“The dangers of the assumption above were brought home to me when I was being observed a few years ago. We were on our way back and it was getting dark; my observer was riding a Pan and another Pan had caught up with us which I hadn’t seen; this second Pan had gone past the observer who had moved over accordingly, so the lights I saw in my mirror weren’t his at all; thus there was very nearly a meeting of fairings when I pulled out to overtake, thinking that my observer had anticipated the overtake and was ready to follow me through, when, in fact, it was the “foreign” Pan overtaking me.”

So, given the safety benefits, why are some riders and instructors so dead-set against them?

 

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68. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness – riding in fog

Fog remains one of the trickiest hazards for motorcyclists, particularly at night or in low-light conditions. Research supports my discussion of visual disorientation and increased reaction time. Modern lighting may help see, high-visibility gear might help others see us — hardly any bikes have a fog light, but the core principles haven’t changed: reduce speed, generous following distances, and riding to what we can actually see, not what we expect. Ultimately, preparation and anticipation remain the rider’s best defences—fog is never enjoyable, but with forethought, it can be managed reasonably safely.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness – riding in fog

I’m pretty sure Keats didn’t ride a motorcycle, but it’s not unusual for spells of settled weather to develop during late on in the autumn, and fog can be a major problem. I still remember two trips vividly. Years ago, when I was only a few months into my riding career, I rode from Maidstone in Kent to West Drayton near Heathrow. The ride took twice as long as expected because the fog came down, and I very nearly didn’t make it. Following the kerb along the inside lane of the A40, I didn’t notice I had drifted off the main carriageway into a slip road. I nearly collided with the Armco barrier on the corner. Thankfully because of the thick fog, I was only riding at about 20mph and took some evasive action. A few years later when I was despatching, I took a package from London to GCHQ at Cheltenham. I left in lovely afternoon shine. I got to Cheltenham in time for a beautiful sunset. And the return ride turned into a nightmare of freezing fog, accidents and traffic jams. So riding in fog and particularly in fog at night, is probably my least favourite part of biking. And if I can, I’ll stay put. But sometimes it has to be done. So what are the problems and how best to deal with them?

Fog forms when moist air travels over colder ground. Although we could encounter for at any time of year, the densest fog often forms in autumn – November is a favourite month for fog. Warm air can still make its way up from the near-continent and it holds more moisture than during the winter months. But the nights are long and fog forms more readily than in summer, and it can be slow to clear – it may even persist all day.

Like all other weather-driven hazards, first stop is the weather forecast. Forewarned is forearmed. Find out what the day-long forecast is. Whilst fog may be slow to clear in the morning, it’s pretty obvious when we wake up in it. But if the weather changes and become clear and still during the day, fog can easily be a problem on the dark ride home. Maybe we can change our departure times.

Towns are generally a bit warmer than the surrounding countryside so it’s not uncommon to drive out of town into fog. We can anticipate where we’re likely to find it. It can be low cloud, so worse on tops of hills. Or it can be caused by cold air that’s sunk into low-lying areas after a still, clear day – damp meadows and river valleys are classic places for fog to form on still evenings. Or it can be blown in off the cold sea. Kent, where I lived for many years, used to get all three types. For example, the M2 being near the coast would often be affected with sea-fog. But the M20, being a few miles inland and crossing the North Downs, was often affected by hill-fog. Watch out for patchy fog, because we never quite know where it is, how thick it is, or how long it’ll last. Don’t be tempted to blast into a wispy looking bit of mist drifting across the road. It could be a lot thicker than you think.

It’s often cold riding in fog, thanks to chill air temperatures, but also because the tiny droplets evaporate from clothing and suck away body heat. If riding in leathers, put waterproofs on, and layer up to stay warm.

On the bike, the first problem is simply seeing out the helmet. The visor gets covered with water droplets on the outside and mists up on the inside from your breath.

Wax polish like Mr Sheen on the outside helps the water bead up and run off, often just by turn our head. Try to avoid wiping a finger – the oily crud on the glove gets smeared across the visor and makes it even more difficult, and long term it scratches it. If the visor gets covered in salt spray or road film, a damp cloth kept in a ziplock bag (I spray that with Mr Sheen too) can clean and re-wax the visor.

Holding our breath all the way home is impractical, and I’ve never yet found a helmet that demisted itself from the vents that were supposed to perform that trick. Breath deflectors also help, but an anti-mist treatment is usually needed. Whilst they do seem to work, they need regular reapplication. Quite honestly, I used Fairy Liquid as a courier, applying a dab of the neat stuff, then polishing it on with a clean cloth. The other option is a Fog City-style add-on. It’s effectively double-glazing for the visor, but I’ve found that at night they reduce visibility, partly because they scratch easily. I’ve heard they can be tricky to seal effectively on some visors.

Having sorted yourself out, make sure the bike is in good shape too, with clean and properly adjusted lights. If dip beam is too low we won’t get any forward vision. If it’s too high, even on low beam it will light up the fog – now the light’s bounced back as glare. Extra-bright lights can actually be a disadvantage when this happens.

One of the problems of riding in fog is a sense of ‘dislocation’. A road we’ve ridden dozens will seem totally different in fog, as our normal visual cues will vanish. So use everything available. Reflective posts are red to the left and white to the right, so if we see a line of red posts, we’re approach a right-hander. And vice versa. Triangular warning signs are reflective and are there to flag up hazards. Watch the centre line – longer ‘hazard lines’ indicate just that, and cat-eyes get closer together too when approaching a hazard, and really close – almost a solid line – when the centre line goes solid. Coloured cat-eyes help on multi-lane roads – red to the left, amber to the right, white between lanes, green where vehicles leave or join a carriageway. Ride to what you can see, not what you think you ought to see.

In general I try to follow the centre line rather than the left hand edge of the road – it keeps you further from dangers to the left which will be harder to see – but be cautious entering cross-hatched zones in the middle – there may be unlit traffic islands in the centre of the road.

Unless we meet someone with no lights, it’s usually easy to see oncoming cars, but side-on there’s little to warn us. We can normally see the tail lights of cars ahead, but don’t simply follow the guy in front – if they run off the road, so will we. Fog’s water so it makes the road surface damp, and potentially very slippery, so a good following distance is important.

We need to remember that with no fog light, the driver behind us will have difficulty seeing us against the brighter lights ahead in a queue of traffic. If we do a lot of foggy miles it might be worth fitting one – I used to fit a fog light as a courier. I’ve also seen riders using bicycle LEDs and was surprised how effective they were, although technically they are illegal if fixed to the bike. Typically, reflective material on hi-vis vests is too high up when everyone is driving on dip beam or fog lights – it needs to be low down to be seen.

And finally, make sure the bike’s easy to ride. Many riders use ‘rat bikes’ for winter riding, but make sure everything works properly – we need every ounce of attention for riding, not to worry about stiff clutches, dodgy brakes or cheap and nasty tyres.

Riding in fog is never fun, but we can make it less stressful.

 

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67. SURPRISE! The key to understanding – and avoiding – riding errors

Even if rider training still focuses on ‘perfect performance’ to avoid errors, it’s increasingly recognised in other fields where safety is paramount — such as in airline pilot training — that skill alone won’t prevent in-flight errors, and that the ‘startle effect’ — what I refer to as SURPRISE! — is the key trigger that overwhelms even highly experienced pilots. The same applies to riding. It’s rare we outride the motorcycle. Most crashes result when our instinctive ‘Survival Reactions’ take over. Key points like the rarity of crashes and the influence of optimism bias should become fundamental concepts in rider training. Even with advanced ABS, traction control, or stability aids, anticipating the unexpected and preparing a mental and physical response remains the most effective defence against SURPRISE!

SURPRISE! The key to understanding – and avoiding – riding errors

There are only two things we can do on a bike – change speed or change direction. To do that, we use the same inputs – accelerating, steering or braking – every moment we ride. Accident investigators around the world find the same things when they look at bike accidents. Nearly always, the bike wasn’t at its limits; if the rider had applied the correct inputs into the machine, they’d have got out of trouble. The traditional view has been that riders make errors because they either lack skills or they make the wrong decisions. It’s easy to say “don’t make errors”, and the conventional view of road safety has always been that ‘all’ we have to do is avoid errors, then everyone would be safe on the roads. So training has always proceeded along those lines – years ago, I was told that if I “observed, anticipated and concentrated” I wouldn’t crash. Guess what? I crashed. So the big questions are these: “if the machine inputs necessary are only an extension of what we do as a matter of course, and if the errors are recoverable, why do we continue to crash?” The implication is that crashing is rather more complex than we think, and it’s worth asking “how do we know how to avoid an error, if we don’t understand it in the first place?”. But does anyone teach us about crashing? Read on…

After a crash, it’s easy to ‘walk backwards’ along the sequence of events and to produce a timeline of events. Eventually we appear to come to the precipitating error:

  1. we left the road in a bend…

  2. because we were off-line…

  3. because we turned in too early…

  4. because we ran in too fast…

  5. because we braked too late…

  6. because we had no margin for error…

  7. because we misjudged the bend!.

Such a crash is likely to be explained as ‘too fast for the conditions’.

Is that really correct? Let’s go back to the beginning and start again, this time trying to understand WHY rather than WHAT went wrong. Are we saying the corner was too fast for the bike? Or too fast for the rider? In a serious crash investigation, it nearly always turns out that the bike could have got the rider out of trouble. So it’s not machine limitations, but ‘rider error’. If we stop there, the finger is usually pointed in the direction of the rider’s level of skill and judgement and the assumption is that if the rider had better skills, the crash wouldn’t happen.

Now, let’s take another step backwards beyond where the rider left the road, to consider something nearly always overlooked. How did the rider get to the corner where he or she crashed? They had to ride there. And that means the rider successfully negotiated every PREVIOUS corner, to reach the one that he or she crashed on.

So if the problem really was riding “too fast” or “lacking skill and judgement”, how did they get as far as they did? Wouldn’t they have crashed sooner? We know that statistically a crash is a relatively rare event, even for relative novices. So whilst it IS possible it was blind luck that the rider got this far, it’s far more likely that there were some unique circumstances about this particular corner that caused the crash HERE rather than somewhere else. In short, the corner somehow set a trap that the unsuspecting rider fell into.

Whilst we can point to a lack of skill or a poor attitude to riding as loading the dice towards crashing, it’s not just new or badly-behaved riders who crash. Those groups might be at higher risk, but crashes don’t happen exclusively to the high risk groups. The majority of crashes actually happen to ‘ordinary’ riders doing ‘ordinary’ things. Moreover, even expert riders crash, and they often have the same ‘standard’ crashes that the higher risk groups do – at junctions, when overtaking and on corners.

So if experience, skill and even a controlled approach to riding only reduces risk but doesn’t eliminate it, it should be pretty clear that something rather more complicated is going on. And here’s where we can turn to the work of US rider coach Keith Code. He realised that even good track riders crashed and noticed that in many of these crashes, the rider COULD have got out of trouble. But when things started going wrong, these riders didn’t respond as expected. Instead, Code identified a string of inappropriate reactions including ineffective and frozen steering, over- and under-braking errors, and target fixation. He concluded that it was these errors that caused most track crashes. He called them ‘Survival Reactions’.

You should be able to see the parallel with accident investigations on the road. The bike COULD have got the rider out of trouble, but like the track rider, the road rider also froze, over-reacted and target fixated into the crash.

Next backwards step. If it’s these ‘Survival Reactions’ that dump us on our backside, why DO we react inappropriately in some places and not others? What triggers the ‘Survival Reactions’? Code put it down to the threat of personal harm, because the moment we’re afraid of something we’re likely to revert to instinct. Instinct, being based on the most primitive part of the brain, rarely provides the right response when riding a bike and our trained responses, everything we’ve learned, goes straight out of the window.

So far, so good, but there’s another pace backwards we can take, by asking “what triggers that fear of personal harm?” Factors acting a ‘stressors’ – that is, making us tense and anxious – such as riding on a road that technically trickier than we’re used to or riding with buddies quicker than us – appear to make us more prone to making a mistake, but don’t seem to explictly trigger Code’s ‘Survival Reactions’.

The trigger appears to be SURPRISE! It’s SURPRISE! that overwhelms our learned behaviour and kicks in the in-built instinctual responses to a threat. The bend tightens. We’re suddenly aware we could run off the road. ‘Survival Reactions’ kick in. We freeze and run off the road. We grab a big handful of brake and lock the front wheel. We target-fixate on where we’ll crash rather than look to see where the road goes.

Let’s take one final backward step. What triggers SURPRISE? The answer is remarkably straightforward. By definition, it’s when something happened that we didn’t expect. It’s a straightforward anticipation failure.

Now, I can already hear people saying “but if you’d observed, ANTICIPATED and concentrated…”

But when was the last time you crashed on a corner? As I mentioned earlier, crashes are remarkably rare events.

As I mentioned, a lack of experience and a lack of skill means we’re at higher risk of a crash, but the longer we ride without a crash, the simple truth is it becomes more difficult for us to mentally view a bend as a high risk area. It would be a mistake to call this complacency – it’s a function of the way our brains see the world outside. We’re biased towards looking on the bright side – for more on this, have a read of a book called ‘The Optimism Bias’ by neuroscientist Tali Sharot. The more we do something, and EVEN THOUGH THE RISKS ARE UNCHANGED, the less aware of the risks we become. Ask any builder who’s fallen off a ladder.

If there IS a risk of complacency, paradoxically it’s likely to come after more training. Think about it. The language of riding, driving and road safety generally is about “getting better” and the better we get (in this case, the fewer scares we have mid-corner), the more likely we are to assume everything will go right. The combination of training (which tells us that skilled riders have fewer crashes) AND a crash-free history leads us to believe it’s our training keeping us safe, rather than the laws of chance. Just like tossing dice, each bend comes with a level of risk, and we just haven’t met that unique set of circumstances that could trip us up…

…yet.

Don’t believe me? Roadcraft talks about being prepared for what we can “reasonably expect to happen”. If we don’t get caught out in a corner, that becomes the ‘reasonable’ option. We may not realise it but that’s what our repeated experience is teaching us. But what it doesn’t take away is the risk that the very next corner could be the one that’s laid a trap just for us.

Once we understand this, ‘inexplicable’ crashes start to explain themselves.

Hopefully, now we are aware of how repeated experience and optimism can warp our assessment of risk, we’ll see how to defeat SURPRISE! Instead of planning for “what we can reasonably expect to happen” and thinking that “I’ve done everything I can to ensure the corner goes right”, we MUST reverse our thinking 180 degrees and prepare for UNREASONABLE events. We need to plan for the ‘Worst Case Scenario’ to see a bend might go wrong, rather than planning the ‘right way’ to ride around it. As I explain on my Survival Skills advanced rider training courses, predicting the ‘Worst Case Scenario’ isn’t difficult, but really is a very different mindset to the standard ‘right way’ approach to riding.

Achieving this pragmatic “I’ve taken all the precautions I can but anything could still go wrong ” mindset is known as developing ‘insight’ and has been used successfully in risk management training in other fields. What’s very interesting is that the latest research is suggesting that with just a modest level of machine control ability, developing the insight that engages a “what could go wrong” mindset has significant benefits. I suggest this is because if we’re expecting something to go wrong, when the ‘Worst Case Scenario’ turns up mid-corner, we’re far less likely to suffer SURPRISE! for the simple reason we had predicted it. That would seem to be the way to defeat Code’s inappropriate ‘Survival Reactions’.

So how can we plan for what might go wrong? It’s simple enough – we just need to look at where other riders got it wrong! That’s where we are most likely to caught out ourselves. The three ‘standard’ crashes are at junctions, on corners and during overtakes and they happen to novice and expert riders alike. Once we realise that, it’s easier to be on red alert.

There’s one final step. Even if we correctly anticipate an emergency and avoid freezing, over-reacting or target-fixating, we really need a pre-planned response to beat SURPRISE! If we have to figure out a solution on the fly is about as likely as pulling a rabbit out of our crash hat. We need to know whether we’re going to need to change speed, change position, sound the horn, swerve or hit the anchors BEFORE the emergency starts to develop, or those ‘Survival Reactions’ will still kick in. That’s why even highly trained and highly experienced riders still fall victim to age-old crashes.

So yes, by all means observe, anticipate and concentrate. But learn about crashing, understand ‘Survival Reactions’ and then use that knowledge to anticipate where things will go wrong, rather than how they might go right. That’s the best way to deal with SURPRISE!

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66. Riding in hot weather – avoiding dehydration

The article is highly relevant, particularly since summers in the UK are getting hotter and hotter. Riding in extreme high temperatures continues to pose a real risk of dehydration, heat exhaustion, and impaired concentration for motorcyclists. The physiological explanations (sweating, fluid and electrolyte loss, impact on kidney function, early fatigue, and later confusion) are all accurate and still supported by modern sports medicine and physiology research. One correction is that modern research suggests moderate caffeine intake is not strongly diuretic in habitual consumers but energy drinks can be counterproductive due to high sugar content. Heat stress is compounded by full protective gear but modern ventilated jackets can aid air flow and cooling if humidity is not too high. It’s also possible to get sunburn through a visor; packing and using sunscreen is a good idea. Don’t ignore the signs of heat stress. Dizziness, headache, nausea, rapid pulse, or cramps can indicate heat exhaustion before severe dehydration sets in.

Riding in hot weather – avoiding dehydration

It always seems to happen. One week I’m riding around wishing I’d remembered to wear the heated waistcoat, then we get a few days of ‘scorchio’ weather. Riding a motorcycle in protective kit on a hot day sets up a unique combination of overheating and sweating, and a cooling and evaporating breeze. The body’s physiological functions only work in a narrow range and if we get too hot or cold, we get disorientated or worse. So the body tries to maintain temperature of around 37 degrees by sweating. The result is a high risk of dehydration at the same time as we’re struggling to stay cool. So what are the dangers of running short of body fluid?

Body fluid and electrolytes are vital to the function of the body’s organs. If they are lost through sweating and if they are not replaced, we suffer dehydration. In the early stages, we get rapidly fatigued and start to lose concentration. In the later stages more serious confusion sets in, and the body’s metabolic functions start to be affected. Not good. And that’s why I send out a notice to riders to ensure that when they attend a Survival Skills advanced rider training course, that they pack some water.

So what are the symptoms of dehydration? A good sign that we are dehydrated is not “feeling thirsty”, it’s not needing to pee! That tells us kidney function is already shutting down to save fluids. By the time we do feel thirsty, with dry lips and a dry mouth, then we are already well into the early stages of dehydration.

Most UK riders are oblivious to just how real a problem this, even when riding at home in a British summer. In countries like Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and the US where they ride long distances in hot and dry conditions, they are much more aware of the risks. You’ll also see racers taking on board fluids just before the start. But dehydration doesn’t only happen to racers. Whilst we’re not working physically so hard, we’re often exposed to that cooling breeze for longer.

So what can we do to prevent dehydration?

Planning ahead is the answer. We can start by pre-loading with fluid before we go out. For sports like cycling and soccer, it’s recommended that we drink around half a litre (roughly a pint) of fluid a couple of hours before we begin. Then around 15 minutes before setting off, aim to drink another half litre.

On the move, we need to keep replenishing fluids. It’s easy enough to take a bottle of water with us, so we can take a drink when we stop. For sporting activities, it’s recommended that we take around 100-150ml every 15 minutes or so when exercising – that would be around a half-litre bottle of water every hour. Given a particularly hot day, that’s probably not far off what we should be drinking on a bike. I took a Hopp Rider Training day at Cadwell Park on a warm autumn day, and we were reminded to get some water on board before going on track, and regularly reminded to rehydrate between track sessions. Doing it right, we should be making regular loo stops too. If that’s inconvenient, so be it. It’s better than the side effects from dehydration.

Riding alone, we can stop when we like, but on a bike with a 250 mile tank range, don’t wait till refuelling stops. Definitely make intermediate stops – remember, if you feel thirsty, you are already dehydrated. Group rides tend to go on too long, and we’re all dependent on the leader deciding when to pull up. So if you’re organising a group ride and you know it’s going to be a hot day, then factor in short breaks at regular intervals, and try to get people to use the opportunity to top up – you don’t want dehydrated and underperforming riders with you.

There’s a lot of marketing surrounding isotonic fluids – these are basically water plus the electrolytes we lose in sweat, so they have the advantage of keeping the chemical balance of the body right. You’ll find them in most service stations. Isotonic drinks also come in powder form – you can buy tubs of the stuff from any cycle shop and make up a couple of litres for the ride.

Personally I’m not fond of fizzy canned drinks because they are generally sweet and sticky. Coffee is generally considered a diuretic (ie it makes you pee more) but lately there’s been some debate about whether the old advice to avoid caffeine-based drinks is actually correct, although it’s generally accepted that the so-called energy drinks aren’t good for rehydrating. Personally I prefer tea – it’s not nearly so strong a diuretic and I like it!

However, they all cost a lot more than plain tap water!

So what to carry fluids in? I avoid buying plastic bottled water, partly because the plastic is liable to split when wedged into a pannier or under an elastic strap, and partly for environmental reasons. Any cycle shop will sell you a plastic water bottle – they are (just about) unbreakable and will squash – or an aluminium bottle. A little more cash will get you an insulated plastic cycle bottle or a Camelbak which is a plastic bladder that sits in a backpack harness – fill either with ice cubes in it, top up with water and even on a hot day, you’ll have something cool to drink for a hour or so.

A couple of final warnings. Steer well clear of alcohol. It might be tempting to sink a nice cold pint “because I’ll be well under the limit” but if you’re rehydrating, the alcohol will be absorbed faster and be even more disorientating than normal.

And… DON’T drink ice-cold water. The thermal shock of pouring ice-cold fluids into the stomach fools the body into thinking it needs to shut down the sweating mechanism. That’s definitely not what we want.