Learning Curve Sixth Sense As a scooter rider, you need nine lives. Unless you’re a particularly clever cat, you need to read this...
Words by JEREMY BOWDLER, photography from TW ARCHIVE You don’t know why you rolled off the throttle. There was no reason, nothing you could put your finger on, no warning sign. But you rolled off the throttle anyway.
A split-second before the car driver cut in on you. It saved your life.
You don’t know why you did it. But you’re glad you did.
For some people, this scenario is a regular occurrence. Other people die. But how do you make sure you’re part of the first group? How do you develop roadcraft before you need to use it? How do you get that sixth sense?
 The old and traditional answer is to get out on the roads. To spend as much time as possible riding, absorbing the lessons that only the road can teach. Of course, the old and traditional answer more or less demands that you don’t die in the meantime. That was part of the process. In one of my first pieces of journalistic endeavour, I interviewed the controller of the bike courier company I was working for in London. I asked how could you tell a good courier. His response was pithy and to the point: one that you see twice.
There must be a better way to gain experience than simply waiting for it to wash over you. With the cut-throat commuter hell we have now, letting experience wash over you is just too 20th Century. And, unfortunately, many riders, no matter how long they have been riding repeat that first year’s riding every year. And you know that’s just not right.
So how do you fast-track that sixth sense? The good news is you do have to get out on the road. That’s the fun part, right? But it’s not all flowing curves and sunny skies. You have to do some work as well.
 You have to think about your riding. You have to analyse what you do and why you do it, then you have to process the information, edit it and store the good bits. And get rid of the bad bits before they become habit. That is the crucial part – winnowing the grain from the chaff.
It’s hard to concentrate all the time, particularly in an urban environment, and it’s incredibly tiring. However, the better you get at it the less you have to concentrate because a state of alertness is all you need. And that is because you will pick up instinctively on when you need to do what you need to do. And, eventually, you’ll do it without thinking about it and without noticing it (almost) – and the only emotion you’ll feel is one of quiet satisfaction: saw it coming, dealt with it, no problem.
If you already have a driver’s licence and have some experience on the roads, then you’ll already have developed some roadcraft, though you’ll be amazed at how quickly what you learn as a rider will change how you see yourself as a driver.
The bad news is that you can’t – or won’t – learn from another’s experience. You have to do it yourself, but I can offer a few hints.
One of the most useful things I have found is talking to yourself inside your helmet. Speaking out loud, I’ll describe what I can see, what is happening, what other vehicles are doing, how fast I’m going, and much more.
 A typical example might run along the lines of: “Okay, so I’m travelling at 56km/h in a 60 zone, slightly right of the centre of my lane, there’s an oncoming car signalling left for a corner 20 metres ahead. There’s a car close behind it. Watch for last minute overtaking as the car brakes for the corner. The car in front is slowing for no reason. Is there something I can’t see? Roll off the throttle, set up the brakes. There’s a pedestrian looking to cross the road. No crosswalk. Will he see me? Will he just step out? What about that car slowing to a Stop sign on my left? Is she going to stop? Is she drunk? Is she talking on a mobile phone? Am I about to get T-boned? There’s a manhole cover in my way. Bugger, it’s started to rain...”
It is an incredibly boring commentary and I can’t keep it up for long – maybe five minutes at a time – but, by crikey, does it sharpen your observational skills by forcing you to vocalise what’s going on and not merely think about it. When you say it out loud, you’ll be surprised at how much you notice and how many things you took for granted before.
And that’s what a sixth sense is all about. Marshalling your thoughts and your experiences and the signs that flag danger for you and cataloguing them in your mind, together with the most appropriate response, and then having that library lurking just below your consciousness so you can reflexively dip into it and make a withdrawal in an instant, analysing and dealing with a problem before you have had a chance to react consciously.
 Part of that library is made up of tell-tale signs, triggers for your responses. Each of us has his or her own set of these and they are made up of simple little things that just don’t quite fit. The bad news is that you have to build up your own library, though I can give you an idea of what works for me. The angle of a car’s wheels – is it indicating but going to go straight ahead or not indicating but about to turn the corner?
That car parked illegally too close to a corner – is it about to pull a quick U-turn, the driver flustered by the mistake and not looking properly before he makes amends?
The driver’s eyes – where are they looking? When they passed over you, did you make eye contact, or did their eyes simply glaze over and not register your presence?
Mobile phones – can you see the driver’s hands? Answering a call? Dialling a number or just text messaging?
Any sudden attitude shift in a car – hard braking? What are they going to do next? Anything out of the ordinary? That weaving van. Driver drunk? Reading a street directory on his knees? Or is he groping around on the floor for the can of drink he just dropped?
Those tell-tale traces of mud on the road. Farm vehicle up ahead? Or just a herd of cows?
A row of empty garbage bins on the road – there’s a garbage truck somewhere ahead. Just over the crest? These are merely a handful of clues I use to make sense of what the other road users are going to do. There are many more that I have forgotten, but which I use unconsciously to stay upright.
Creating the databank of clues takes time or effort, or both, but it can be done and it will save your life.
Developing your sixth sense is work and it is hard work, but it repays dividends in ways you won’t appreciate until it is you that is still alive and wondering why you just knew what was going to happen before it did. As published in TW SCOOTER MAGAZINE - 19/12/2005
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