Ride to stop in what you see

Passing the Institute of Advanced Motorists's test involves a change of mindset first, says GEOFF HILL

‘THE THING is,” said my mate Colin, tossing an empty beer can into the bin and opening another, “it doesn’t matter how good a biker you are, it’s all the other prats on the road who kill you.”

“Not if we see them first,” I said, opening another one myself, “which, funny enough, is the whole point of the Institute of Advanced Motorists training.

“When I did my IAM car test a few years ago, they taught you two main things: to use the same system of control when approaching junctions, corners, hazards and so on, and to always create the biggest possible safe zone around and in front of you.”

“Which is what?”

“The distance you can see, basically. So if you’re coming up to a junction on the left, for example, you check in your mirror and move to the right so you can see further into the junction. If there’s a car at the junction, slow down so you can stop if it pulls out, cover the horn in case you need to use it, and look at the driver so you can see if he’s actually looking at you.”

“Ah yes, the whites of their eyes. Reminds me of the Borneo campaign.”

“Quite. Same thing if you’re driving down a street with cars parked. Look for drivers in them, exhaust smoke, legs of kids under them, etc, and pull out so that if someone does open a car door, you’ll already be clear of it.

“Also, if you’re approaching a right-hand bend, pull to the left so you can see further around the bend, which increases your safe zone again. And if the bend is to the left, pull to the right for the same reason, even over the white line if it’s safe.

“See, what you’re doing is increasing the distance you can see down the road, and since you should always drive so you can stop in the distance you can see, it means you can actually drive faster when it’s safe to do so.

“Which is why you’ll see police drivers sometimes doing 20 in a 30 zone when schools are out because there are loads of kids running about and drivers pulling out without looking, and 30 is legal but not safe. And why you’ll also see them doing 90 down an almost empty motorway when it’s safe to do so.”

“Cool. There’s only one thing for it, then. We’ll have to do our IAM advanced bike test,” said Colin.

“Aye, I was thinking you’d say that,” I said, helping myself to another beer.

The next day, I got on the phone to the local branch of the IAM, and a fortnight later Colin and I found ourselves standing with Paul Sheldon, police motorcyclist turned advanced instructor. “Geoff, do you remember the system of control from your car test?” he said.

“Sure do. It’s engraved on my mind like acid on steel: mirror, course, signal, speed, gear, horn if necessary, manoeuvre. And I guess on a bike you’d stick lifesaver, the look over your shoulder, just before manoeuvre.”

“Very impressive. Shame they’ve changed it all to information, position, speed, gear, acceleration.”

“Listen, I’ll never learn all that. Can I just stick to the old system?”

“Aye, same difference. And it’s not called a lifesaver any more. It’s a blind spot check. Right, let’s go riding. Stick these earphones in your helmets so I can talk to you.”

We set off, with first Colin then me taking the lead and Paul behind. I don’t know about Colin, but with an ex-police biker watching my every move, I was riding like a granny on Valium.

After half an hour, Paul pulled us in for a natter.

“Right, you both need to ride faster. There’s no point being on a bike if you don’t make progress by overtaking and filtering past slow-moving traffic. Colin, you could be faster through corners as well, and Geoff, you seem obsessed with riding down the middle of the road,” he said.

“Listen, the first LP I bought was Neil Diamond’s 12 Greatest Hits, and I’ve been middle of the road ever since,” I said lamely, and we set off again, making progress, filtering furiously, making our way to the front of the queue at traffic lights, and generally behaving like well-mannered kings of the road.

Over the next few weeks, Paul tweaked and corrected, admonished and praised. We knew we were finally getting it right when long periods went by without a word in our earphones. And when he told us we were ready for our test.

The following Saturday morning, after a sleep disturbed by nightmares that I had forgotten not only the advanced stuff, but how to ride a bike at all, I turned up, yawning mightily, to find Charlie Stewart, the examiner, in disturbingly bright and breezy form.

“Right, let’s go. You and Colin are the third and fourth I’ve done this week, and I usually fail one in four,” he grinned.

“Thanks for that, Charlie,” I grinned back, and we set off for an hour-and-a-half of intense riding under the equally intense gaze of Charlie.

“Yes, nice, safe, systematic ride. I’ll tell you if you’ve passed once I get back,” he said when we arrived back at the start point to find Colin anxiously awaiting his turn.

“I may as well follow you around then, since I’m doing nothing else,” I said.

Ninety minutes later, we were back and identifying road signs from Charlie’s flip chart as a final theory test.

“Well, I’m pleased to tell you that you’ve both passed. Your certificates will be in the post,” he said at last, and we shook his hand and rode home, snug in the knowledge that not only had we reduced our chances of having an accident by 85 per cent, but earned a nice little discount on our insurance.

Which would mean that Colin would be able to buy even more beer in the future.

For details of the Institute of Advanced Motorists car and motorbike training, visit www.iam.org.uk. For details of Adelaide Insurance, the IAM -approved insurer, visit www.adelaideinsurance.com.