In poker, being able to notice and interpret other players’ “tells” can make the difference between winning and losing. A tell is any bodily, verbal or behavioral indication your opponent feels confident and excited, or insecure and anxious, about their hand. These signs may be subtle, perhaps even completely invisible to someone inexperienced in this dimension of the game. Skilled players work hard to avoid revealing such information; they may even try to signal the opposite message to throw off their competition, bluffing in either direction to shift betting in their favor. Tells may be highly idiosyncratic, requiring meticulous analysis of a specific individual over time, or they can be generic and common across most poker players. Similarly, people in psychotherapy unwittingly reveal information about their emotions and credibility while discussing sensitive topics; a savvy clinician picks up on these cues and makes careful decisions about whether, when and how to address what seems to be going on, with the aim of making honest, open discussion more possible.
In traffic, being able to notice and interpret other drivers’ tells can make the difference between avoiding a collision and having one. Vigilant motorcyclists spot and take seriously signs of danger that new or oblivious riders miss or disregard. These tells may manifest in a driver’s visible actions (or inaction), or they can be features of the vehicle they’re driving. Instead of the furtive glance of a poker opponent or the waver in someone’s voice as they gloss over an event from childhood, drivers give more overt indications of their attention, inattention and intention—but we must be looking for them and know their likely meanings. The information gleaned can provide advanced insight into risk factors and allow us to get out of harm’s way before problems cross over from the abstract world of potentials to the all-too-concrete realm of actualities. While any given individual will have their own uniquely predictive patterns, there are quite a few commonplace tells that don’t require intimate knowledge of another driver for interpretation. Let’s go over several examples. (For more, see David Hough’s old but excellent books, Proficient Motorcycling and More Proficient Motorcycling.)
Some tells are so obvious they barely deserve mention, but we have to start somewhere. A driver looking down, tapping on their phone is unquestionably distracted from their surroundings and the tasks of driving. They have little or no situational awareness and cannot possibly act in ways that maximize their own safety and that of others nearby, regardless of any driving skill they might possess. Such a driver is a random number in the life-or-death formula we’re always trying to solve. This makes prediction utterly impossible. It’s one thing to take up a difficult challenge; it’s quite another to deny something is a lost cause. The only sensible solution is to treat them like a bomb that could go off at any moment and either give them a wide berth or get well ahead of them if conditions permit.
Then there’s the driver who isn’t looking down at their phone but still isn’t monitoring the road ahead. They may be twisted around, hunting for something in the seat beside or behind them, or dealing with unruly children. They could be looking for an opening in traffic that would allow a lane change, or trying to read the names of side streets or the numbers on buildings. Such actions aren’t necessarily indications they’re a careless driver, but they definitely are evidence of divided attention and a high potential for an erratic change in direction. Maybe they inadvertently tug the wheel while contorting their body or suddenly realize the turn they were searching for is RIGHT THERE!
Maybe we can’t see the driver clearly, but we can see their driving. Someone weaving side to side—even if they stay within their lane, but especially if they don’t—is either distracted, impaired or itching to make an aggressive move. The same is likely true of a driver who keeps changing speed; rather than weaving side to side, they oscillate forward and backward relative to other vehicles. The reason top-level racers can enter corners at stratospheric speeds within inches of each other is their precise consistency. They’re confident in their own ability to maintain a perfectly steady, predictable position and trust their track-mates to do the same. The less consistency a driver displays, the less trustworthy they are and the larger the space buffer we must maintain between us and them.
On a recent ride I witnessed a particularly dramatic example of this. Traffic had slowed to a crawl because of construction, and a line of vehicles was inching along a multi-mile corridor of big orange barrels backed by tall, temporary concrete Jersey barriers. Given that everyone’s average speed was less than a walking pace, this wouldn’t seem like a challenging (or threatening!) driving situation. However, the van in front of me kept falling back or remaining stationary when traffic would advance, only to lurch forward into the resulting gap afterwards and then abruptly brake upon closing on the vehicle ahead of them. Clearly the driver wasn’t paying attention to traffic flow, probably because it was so boring. And just as clearly, when they did notice what was going on, they overreacted impulsively. These tells were not subtle nuances.
Although I was already on high alert and had given the van a considerable lead, I certainly didn’t expect what happened next: It gradually drifted into one of the barrels, pushing it to the Jersey barrier. This wasn’t enough to get the driver’s attention and they proceeded to hit a second barrel with more force, crushing and dragging it against the concrete, and ultimately ejecting it onto the road behind them before they veered back across their (our) lane and almost hit a car in the adjacent one. Suddenly, a giant deformed barrel lay across the pavement directly in my path. Had I been following more closely, as folks usually do in gridlock, that barrel could have been flung right into the front of my motorcycle, despite our snail-like velocity. At the very least, I would have collided with it on the ground. Instead, I was just barely able to swerve around it. The car behind me lacked the room to do so and had to stop while someone hopped out and shoved the barrel aside. The van ambled along like nothing had happened, though it now sported orange creases along its formerly smooth, white flank.
Even a stationary vehicle can give clues about what might happen next. One example often given to students in beginner rider education classes is the car stopped in the opposing direction at a red light with its front wheels turned to the driver’s left. When the light changes, that driver intends to cross our lane; we can be more sure of this than of them noting our presence, especially if they didn’t bother to put on their blinker—that’s a sign of disregard for others nearby. Entering that intersection should be done as though we’re invisible, giving that driver as much room as possible and planning our escape route if they initiate their turn before we’re clear. Speaking of blinkers, a driver who has left their blinker on for miles is not signaling an intended turn, they’re signaling their inattention and should be treated accordingly.
The condition of a vehicle can speak volumes about its driver’s trustworthiness. A car that looks like it’s been in a demolition derby is broadcasting the likelihood of more impacts to come. Sure, it’s possible that big dent in a rear bumper was caused by an inattentive follower, but it’s also possibly the result of the driver backing into something because they weren’t careful. A car in obvious disrepair is likely to have additional problems not readily apparent to an outside observer. If you were examining a used motorcycle as a potential purchase and saw the chain hadn’t been properly cared for, what are the chances oil changes and valve clearance checks were done on schedule? Probably not very good. Vehicular problems are often like cockroaches—if you see one, you can be certain others are hiding out of sight. A driver who neglects their car could be a thoroughly sympathetic character who simply lacks the financial means to keep it in better shape. But they could also be someone who just routinely ignores things out of laziness or lack of concern, and their driving habits are apt to reflect similar irresponsibility and disinterest. Regardless of its driver’s personality, a poorly maintained vehicle is more likely to malfunction and suddenly become a hazard on the road—stay clear.
I have an easily spooked cat. While he does exhibit curiosity, he’s determined to not let it kill him. At the first sign of anything unexpected, he turns tail and flees. Given that cats can see and hear things completely imperceptible to human beings, he sometimes bolts when I don’t notice any threat at all. This is an apt metaphor for how highly skilled riders avoid accidents less advanced motorcyclists never see coming. A little gravel in a corner on a country road probably isn’t the only debris I’m going to encounter on this ride. While that patch was insignificant in itself, it could be extremely significant as a warning that upcoming curves may be littered with more substantial and dangerously unstable material. Better to be a scaredy-cat and approach subsequent turns with caution than wind up losing the front in a fast, blind sweeper because I “had no idea” it would be sandy. That’s a thought I definitely should have entertained.
Whether it’s a matter of noticing the tells of other drivers or reading the details of a landscape or road surface, seasoned riders gather critically important information they’ve learned to recognize and accurately interpret. This perceptual faculty is every bit as crucial to safety as the operation of their motorcycle’s controls. Both are skill sets that must be deliberately studied and mastered; no one is born with them. By definition, experts are people who can derive a great deal of meaning from a small amount of data. Riding well involves a tremendous amount of data processing, picking up on relevant details and placing our bets wisely in accord with what they suggest. Like poker, this is a game of probability. We may be wrong about something actually happening, even when it’s genuinely quite likely, but erring on the side of caution gives us the best chance of riding again tomorrow. The only cost is a bit of proactive maneuvering that might prove unnecessary.
Well, there may actually be another cost for some riders. People can be intrigued by unusual phenomena and want to see how things play out. Like a crash site that compels rubber-neckers to slow and gawk, a driver behaving oddly may prompt a kind of target fixation for riders, similar to an anomaly on the road. And, just as when we stare at a pothole, we’re virtually certain to have more involvement than we want when our gaze is fixed on what we need to avoid. An inquisitive rider may have to actively divert their attention from a stack of untethered furniture on a flatbed trailer or a car slowing mysteriously in the center lane of an interstate. This is not a reality TV show or a YouTube clip of some incredible disaster. In real life on the road, curiosity truly can kill the cat! Foregoing a front-row seat to a catastrophe is undoubtedly the right choice, but it might be hard to execute amidst the promise of a spectacle. Do like my cat: get away first and ask questions later—or not.
In addition to being sensitive to their opponents’ tells, good poker players can calculate their odds of success quickly and accurately, given what cards they’ve been able to observe. They know most hands are losers and they often fold quickly. Over time, taking numerous small losses is outweighed by a few big wins. I’m sure my cat often jumps away when he’s in no real peril, but he’s lived a long time in an area with lots of larger critters that would consider him a tasty snack. Taking the “loss” of extra care when we detect hints of possible danger on the road is a small price to pay for the big win of a long and safe life of riding. There’s no shame in prudent discretion; that’s called wisdom.
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.
