What We Learned from Riding with British Police

There's a police officer behind me urging me to ride faster. I'm too dumb to figure this out just yet.

"Leaving a built-up area now," he says over the radio. "So, perform your checks... when it's safe to do so, we're away."

Just before a 60 mph sign, and as I learned in my initial rider training, I check both mirrors, glance over my shoulder, and roll the throttle. I reach 60 and peg it there.

"OK," says the voice in my ear. "Road ahead is clear. We're making progress..."

The voice belongs to Kevin, a motorcycle instructor for South Wales Police. He's following me as part of a BikeSafe course.

The British love red tape. Getting your license here ultimately requires that you take five tests –– more if you're under the age of 24. Many riders can't get enough, though. There are several levels of post-license training—all the way up to being certified at the level of police motorcyclists. And you have never seen someone ride as well as a British police officer. It's freaky. Not just slow-speed Shriner tricks, but ghost-like ability at bladder-loosening speed. To me, they are a high-vis Nazgûl from Lord of the Rings. You'll never outrun them.

BikeSafe is the first step toward achieving such prowess. I've been at it less than 10 minutes and I'm already doing something wrong.

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"Road's clear," repeats Kevin. "So, let's make progress."

I know I should be doing something, but I can't figure out what that might be. My shoulders tense up and I can feel his Nazgûl stare from behind.

"Can you hear me alright on the radio?" he asks.

The gentle lilt of his South Wales accent has subtly crossed the line from "calm and reassuring" to "explaining things to an idiot." I nod my head to indicate I've heard him.

"Right," he sighs. "Why don't we pull up by here and have a little chat?"

By the time I cut my engine, he's already stomping toward me. A lot of Welsh cops play rugby in their spare time, and for a tiny moment, I fear Kevin is going to see how far he can throw me.

"You ride like this normally, do you?" he asks. "Like someone's granny?"

And here's where I begin to learn the primary lesson of the day, which is:

Use your brain box all the time

All the tips and techniques I'll learn today fall under this category. Ultimately, the goal is to achieve a state of constant mindfulness: Be fully aware of where you are, what you're doing, and how you're doing it.

This means analyzing each situation anew, and avoiding routines. In watching me check my mirrors, Kevin had seen me performing a routine, rather than an act intended to gather information about my surroundings.

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"You had a cop up your arse, mate," he says, "but you didn't make much effort to find me in your mirrors. And what was behind me? Had there been a car there, how close would it have been to me? How close was I to you? Had you been forced to stop quickly, would I have had enough time to react? Would the driver behind me have had enough time, as well? Or would he bump me into you?"

On a single, seemingly insignificant action, Kevin is able to write an entire Choose Your Own Adventure novel. This is what I mean about using your brain box all the time. All the time. Constantly. For everything.

Breaking that down, my instructor offers a few specific areas of thought to focus on:

The tennis ball technique

Imagine a tennis ball attached to an infinitely long piece of string. Imagine throwing that tennis ball to the very limit of your vision and reeling it back in. Doing this over and over and over as you ride, the tennis ball is your line of sight. Your goal is to take in as much information as you possibly can, not just about what's in front of you, but what's way off in the distance.

Initially, my inclination in doing this is to stretch my vision to the furthest point in the road, but soon I realize this isn't enough.

"You see that cyclist?" Kevin observes as we ride. "When he catches up with that tractor, it's inevitably going to cause traffic to slow."

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