Motorcyclists must contend with the fear of falling and incurring physical injury. While driving a car obviously involves risk of harm, too, our awareness of such danger is muted by the reassuring protection of a metal shell and the absence of any need to maintain our balance. On a bike, we have no such external frame and we must be ever-mindful of the numerous factors affecting our dance with gravity. If we lack sufficient fear to prompt due concern about potential collisions with other objects or the ground, the laws of physics will certainly impose painful lessons to correct our mindset—if we survive the education. Insufficient fear is a self-limiting problem likely to be solved quickly.

At the other end of the spectrum, excessive fear can last indefinitely. A conundrum may evolve wherein a rider’s timidity precludes learning that would lead to greater proficiency and realistic confidence—not the oblivious arrogance of the unconcerned rider, but a surety about how motorcycling dynamics actually work and ones skill in negotiating them, all based on repeated concrete demonstrations over time. Practice and experience can yield solid, reliable reference points going forward, allowing a rider to feel oriented and prepared, but this won’t happen if fear precludes the necessary experimentation. A rider can only expand the frontier of their understanding by venturing into the unknown.

Ideally, this is accomplished in small, manageable increments involving enough stretching for meaningful gains to be made, but not so much that panic and overwhelm begin to interfere. Good coaching is absolutely invaluable here, as the forays into unfamiliar territory should be well-devised, not random or based on faulty reasoning. And the interpersonal support of a trustworthy authority figure can go a long way in offsetting the anxiety that naturally accompanies risk. Mistakes will undoubtedly be made, probably accompanied by scrapes and bruises, but when this goes well the stakes will be kept low, with increased challenge coming only after mastery has been achieved to a reasonable degree under lesser demands. These “failures” can be highly instructive, teaching the intrepid student where certain lines are drawn and what areas need improvement.

EMBED GOES HERE

Alternatively, a more insecure learner (or one with inadequate guidance and encouragement) will conclude riding a motorcycle is simply too difficult and dangerous; they’ll abandon the whole project or at least quit trying to advance. In the latter case, instead of developing their skills, they’ll simply avoid situations which might tax them. Unfortunately, there’s no way to do that with certainty, as unpredicted circumstances are inevitable on two wheels. Thus, excessive fear is apt to be a perpetual detractor on virtually every ride, reducing both enjoyment and safety, because this isn’t the constructive fear that promotes healthy vigilance and perpetual improvement, but rather a chronic anxiety that agitates and distracts, increasing the likelihood of exactly what the person is afraid could happen.

I’m going to call the feelings described so far “Fear 1.0.” This is the basic fear motorcyclists are typically referring to when they use the F-word, and it’s a readily understandable manifestation of our normal survival instincts—we’re hardwired to pursue self-preservation and veer away from physical harm. We might disagree about the actual dangers involved, as in disputes over whether strong use of the front brake will send the rider flying over the handlebars in an emergency stop. But we usually don’t have any difficulty appreciating someone’s apprehension when we take their premise, faulty as it may be, into account. In general, none of us choose what we believe will hurt us.

Now I want to pivot to another kind of fear, what I’ll call “Fear 2.0.” This version may not be so immediately apparent or understandable. It’s more abstract and more prone to obfuscation. Fear 2.0 isn’t about bodily injury, per se, although it might have some overlap with that possibility. Fear 2.0 is focused more on psychological risks, more specifically potential damage to ones self-regard. For example, a rider could fear demonstrating less competence than others and being seen as inept within their group, whether on a Sunday afternoon ride with friends or during drills at a rider training event. It can be hard to tell where self-perception starts and the view of others ends. Even if ones cohort isn’t the least bit critical or judgmental, it’s quite possible to feel humiliated in their eyes. For the purpose of this discussion, how other people actually see us is irrelevant if we’re ashamed or afraid of shame. The derisive “phone call” we’re listening to may well be coming from “inside the house,” but we won’t necessarily be able to tell the difference.

Shame is proverbial kryptonite in the learning process. It may be far more worrisome to a student—and we should all be lifelong students—than the possibility of physical harm. Just as we’re hardwired to avoid bodily injury, we reflexively guard against the possibility of being seen as weak, inadequate or worthless. Keep in mind guilt is regret and self-reproach about having done something wrong and injurious to someone else; it’s a judgement of our own behavior based on its negative impact on others. Shame, by contrast, isn’t exactly about our behavior, but rather our person. It’s the sense of being defective or incomplete—inferior compared to others. We might be able to make amends when guilty of a transgression, but shame can’t be remedied like that. We’d have to become a different person, at least in our own eyes. That might be possible through some sort of transformative initiative. For instance, someone ashamed of their inability to do something could work on developing the requisite skill and eventually feel pride (the opposite of shame) about their achievement. A similar shift can also occur if they realize they’re not really inferior, as when they learn many other people have struggled with the same deficiency. This can leave them with a better appreciation of how they’re simply “normal” within the context of a more accurate understanding of human nature and the human condition; they’re no longer comparing themselves to unrealistic ideals and coming up short.

It’s easy to see how shame is destructive to learning. By definition, learning involves failure. For someone to avoid such failures they’d have to already know what they’re supposedly trying to learn. This impossible expectation is precisely what prevents true learning. Either the person avoids situations wherein they might fail (and learn from their mistakes), or they become adept at pretending to know things they don’t really know, including not only the mental knowledge of information but also the physical knowledge of skill. If their audience is naïve or they can skirt challenges, they might get away with such image management, but activities like riding a motorcycle sort out poseurs quickly, since real skills are required all along the way and hard to fake. It’s a common experience among riders to hear a new addition to the group brag about their amazing abilities and then promptly prove themselves unable to perform at the first hint of challenge. They hoped their bravado would suffice in lieu of actual skill, but those who’ve done the hard work of genuine skill-building aren’t fooled.

In rider education, whether formal or casual, this kind of preemptive bluster derails the process. Savvy instructors, whether professional or amateur, will address it. In many cases, the goal should be to relieve the motive pressure behind such self-aggrandizement. If the person doesn’t feel so afraid of shame, they won’t need to overcompensate; maybe they can then focus on the tasks central to developing actual competence instead of just the appearance of it. Of course, that appearance is likely to be transparent to many in their audience, but again, what matters here is how the person thinks they look to others, not how others actually see them. Because such people can be obnoxious, it takes a calm, empathic approach from the instructor, who may have to contain the impulse to deliver exactly the humiliation the haughty student fears. Instead of deliberately embarrassing them, a generous, patient and effective instructor will look for ways to allay their fear of shame. This might involve repeatedly and explicitly emphasizing the fact everyone endures multiple failures on their way to mastery; errors aren’t evidence of something wrong with the person, they’re evidence that person is truly engaged in the learning process. The instructor might also deconstruct unrealistic ideals, identifying where the student is aiming too high and refocusing them on more attainable, smaller scale goals which will actually yield progress and pride instead of intimidation, avoidance and a continued sense of inadequacy. There are many ways this can play out, depending on the personalities involved, but the basic principle is helping the person save face while accepting a more humble status, which paradoxically allows for improved capabilities. The instructor must shield the student’s fragile (or already hurt and panicking) ego long enough for some substantive skill development to get traction, then real progress can start replacing their PR campaign.

The Ride Inside with Mark Barnes is brought to you by the MOA Foundation. You can join the BMW Motorcycle Owners of America quickly and easily to better take advantage of the Paul B. Grant and Clark Luster training reimbursement programs offered by the Foundation.

Sadly, there are people who are so profoundly fearful of shame that no mortal instructor has much chance of easing their fears sufficiently to allow learning. While such people are apt to offend everyone around them, it’s important to know they’re fundamentally operating out of fear and self-doubt, or even self-loathing, no matter how fierce their outward presentation. This doesn’t mean they can’t do real harm to others; they absolutely can. And in some cases, there’s no solution but to eject them from the group or otherwise exercise power in a way that preserves the learning process for everyone else. Getting them to cool it might require public humbling, but this is unlikely to lead to them opening up to the learning process authentically; they’re more likely to just be quietly indignant and resentful. On one hand, such people appear utterly shameless, and they may in fact construe each and every impingement on their inflated self-regard as unfair or untrue, fending off any conscious acknowledgement of their own imperfections. On the other hand, however, they couldn’t be more terrified of humiliating exposure; the enormity of their fear is betrayed by how much energy they devote to obscuring it. You may not want this person as a riding buddy, but you might have a bit of sympathy for them, knowing they had to suffer great shame in the past to be so deathly afraid of it now.

In less extreme cases, including the level most of us experience on a routine basis, shame and the fear of shame can be addressed with the basic remedies mentioned earlier. First, where possible, shame about ineptitude can be reversed through skill acquisition and result in pride of accomplishment. However, this isn’t guaranteed. There are people who discount their own achievements and abilities and remain mired in disapproval they internalized from others and can’t relinquish. Instead of fearing shame, these folks embrace it as a part of their identity and perhaps as a treasured—albeit painful—remnant of a formative relationship. The second possible fix involves recognizing that their flaws and foibles aren’t much different from those of others; they might join the ranks of mere human beings instead of striving to be superhuman and inevitably feeling inferior to an unrealistic ideal. This doesn’t mean collapsing into mediocrity, but rather striving for attainable goals, accepting incremental progress, and feeling more compassion for everyone trying to grow, including oneself. And third, there is the healing power of others’ empathy, understanding and acceptance. We can’t actually give this to ourselves, but we can make sure we’re not deflecting it when it’s offered. Many people are starving for this, yet have their mouths wired shut in situations wherein it’s available. They may have difficulty believing it’s sincere or feel it’s dangerous to ingest for various reasons.

Fear 2.0 can be a tremendous impediment to riding pleasure and safety. Let’s do our best to reduce its footprint in our own approach to motorcycling and, when we get the chance, in that of our riding companions, too. The benefits will spread throughout our lives as individuals and as a community.