Slowing Down Will Not Keep You Safe.
Nobody throws a leg over a motorcycle planning to crash.
Not once in nearly three decades of riding motorcycles—road racing, supermoto, motocross, woods racing, track days, coaching, touring, commuting, mini-bike racing, and street riding have I ever thought to myself, “Today feels like a fantastic day to throw myself down the road.” Yet despite never intending to crash, I have crashed hundreds of times.
Some of those crashes happened because I spent a considerable amount of time operating motorcycles at the limit. Others happened because I sailed clear past that limit with all the confidence of a man who believed his mediocre talent could temporarily suspend the laws of physics. A few happened because I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The interesting part is that while I never planned on crashing, there were certainly rides where I understood crashing was more likely. Running a two-hour woods enduro in the rain isn’t “hopefully I don’t fall down.” It’s more like, “Let’s see how many times I can fall down while still staying on the lead lap.” I understood the environment, the risk, and the consequences. I prepared accordingly with proper gear, the right mindset, and realistic expectations.
On the other hand, riding from the beach to the mountains twenty years ago didn’t feel risky at all. Beautiful roads. Great weather. Relaxed pace. No lap timer. No trophies. No pressure. Yet when a nice old lady turned left directly in front of me, years of practicing 100-percent threshold braking in road racing kept me alive.
That story is relevant because hope is a poor riding technique. Certainly, I hoped for a safe ride. But I backed up that hope with preparation.
Why do we study world-class road racers for threshold braking techniques? Because nobody in the world is better at threshold braking than world-class road racers!
Just Slow Down
Many riders, and frankly, much of the motorcycle industry, approach safety from an idealistic perspective. The thinking goes something like this: ride the speed limit, obey traffic laws, leave plenty of space, don’t take risks, and everything will be fine. On paper, it sounds completely reasonable.
After all, if you’re never going to ride quickly, why learn threshold braking? If you’re never going to challenge traction, why study grip management? If you’re never going to approach the limits of the motorcycle, why learn motorcycle dynamics? Those are advanced skills for racers. The logic seems sound.
The problem is that motorcycles do not exist in theory. They exist in reality.
At ChampSchool, nearly seventy percent of our students have never been on a racetrack before. They aren’t aspiring racers; they simply want to become safer, more confident street riders.
What’s fascinating is what happens when some riders arrive at their first school.
Riders who have unknowingly built their confidence around rules rather than skill are now terrified when presented with a road without familiar traffic laws. A rider who felt perfectly comfortable riding 80 mph down the interstate on the way to the event, with distracted drivers, wildlife, potholes, construction zones, intersections, and every imaginable variable, suddenly becomes terrified of riding 60 mph on a racetrack.
This defies logic.
The racetrack is objectively safer than the public road. Everyone is traveling in the same direction. There are no intersections, no texting drivers, no couches lying on the roadway, and no oncoming traffic. The pavement is largely predictable. Corner workers are watching. Medical personnel are on site.
Yet many riders are nervous and apprehensive. Why?
Because in their minds, the rules were what kept them safe. The speed limit…the lane markings….the traffic laws kept them safe. Remove those external structures, and they suddenly feel exposed. What they discover is that much of their confidence has been built on compliance rather than competence.
The racetrack exposes that illusion quickly. Without traffic laws, riders are forced to confront a question they may have never considered:
What actually makes me safe on a motorcycle?
The answer isn’t a sign on the side of the road. The answer is control.
Control of speed.
Control of direction.
Control of traction.
Control of vision.
Control of the motorcycle itself.
Slow and out of control is still out of control.
Once riders begin to understand this, something remarkable happens
Their confidence stops being dependent on circumstances and starts becoming dependent on skill. They begin to realize that safety is not simply the absence of risk. Safety is the ability to manage risk when it inevitably appears.
This is where idealism begins to fall apart.
Idealism says, “I don’t need those skills because I follow the rules, so I’m never planning to use them.”
Reality responds, “That’s adorable.”
Idealism assumes emergencies can be avoided through good intentions and responsible behavior.
Reality understands emergencies happen whether we intended them to or not.
Reality is discovering water flowing across a blind corner halfway through your turn and not knowing how to use your body position to reduce lean angle while maintaining your cornering radius.
Reality is finishing all your braking in a straight line, committing to a speed, and then realizing that the comfortable 50 mph corner ahead is actually tightening into a 25 mph decreasing-radius turn. Mastering trail braking means you can control your speed and cornering radius in any situation.
Reality is accelerating up an on-ramp, expecting a clear merge, only to find a stopped vehicle in your lane at the exit. Understanding neutral throttle, braking at lean angle, and motorcycle dynamics gives riders options when the unexpected happens.
Reality is eventually having someone pull out in front of you while you’re doing the speed limit, not because they hate motorcycles, not because they are malicious, and not because you did anything wrong. Simply because human beings make mistakes, and motorcycles are difficult to see.
Most riders never practice threshold braking until it’s too late.
Reality doesn’t care about rules or good intentions.
Reality only responds to preparation.
You may never intend to find the limit, but sometimes the limit finds you.
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It’s a simple equation. Radius = MPH. Our speed is directly tied to our cornering radius at the lean angle we choose. If we cannot accurately control our speed in a corner, then we cannot accurately control our cornering radius.
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Rules and Control.This is why motorcycling requires two different forms of education.Education #1: The first is traditional rider education. This is a focus on understanding traffic laws, traffic patterns, and the rules of the road, then reinforcing them through repetition and experience. Experience matters. Traffic laws matter. Pattern recognition matters. Years of driving and riding help riders identify developing hazards and avoid problems before they occur.But experience alone can create a dangerous illusion.Many riders begin to believe that years spent riding automatically translate into competent motorcycle control. It doesn’t.Education # 2: Truly great riders understand traffic behavior, but they also understand motorcycle vehicle dynamics. They understand how to create and manage grip. They understand the physics of braking. They understand that the cornering radius is directly tied to speed. They understand that motorcycles were engineered to function in very specific ways and that the closer they operate within those principles, the better the motorcycle performs.The first form of education helps riders avoid problems. The second prepares them for the problems they couldn’t avoid.You need both. |
Regardless of our intentions of never finding the limit, sometimes the limit finds us.
A long look in the rearview mirror.
Let’s also be honest about why we ride motorcycles in the first place.
Nobody reading this bought a motorcycle intending to ride the exact same road, in the exact same conditions, at the exact same speed, for the rest of their life. We bought motorcycles because we wanted adventure. We wanted to discover roads we had never seen before on amazing machines. The unpredictability and variety are part of what make motorcycles special.
And let’s be really honest with ourselves.
Nobody reading this bought a motorcycle intending to ride the speed limit on every ride.
That doesn’t mean everyone is auditioning for MotoAmerica on the street. It simply means every rider has twisted the throttle a little farther than necessary because they wanted to feel what their motorcycle could do. Sportbike riders do it. ADV riders do it. Touring riders do it. Bagger riders do it.
Every. Single. One.
Building an entire safety philosophy around perfect conditions and perfect decision-making becomes fundamentally flawed because real roads are unpredictable. Real weather is unpredictable. Real traffic is unpredictable. Riders are imperfect. Drivers are imperfect.
Reality wins.
Every single time.
Eventually, something unexpected happens. And when it does, we do not magically rise to the occasion. We return to our last level of training competency.
You don’t have to be a world-class racer to have world-class control.
The good news is that motorcycle control can be learned.
Data-proven best practices, as used by the world’s best riders, consistently lead to better control. Better control leads to safer riders.
We hear the phrase, “Those skills are only for the racetrack,” all the time. But does anyone seriously believe that a MotoGP rider would be less safe riding across town than the average motorcyclist?
Of course not.
The best riders in the world aren’t safe because they ride slowly. They’re safe because they possess an extraordinary level of motorcycle control. If the nice old lady turns left in front of Marc Márquez, there may be nobody on Earth better equipped to stop a motorcycle before impact.
Let’s all ride like Marc—not at his pace, but with his technique.
The riders who stay safe over decades of riding rarely rely on hope. They train. They practice threshold braking before panic requires it. They learn grip management before grip becomes scarce. They understand motorcycle dynamics before the motorcycle surprises them.
Because eventually something unexpected happens. And when it does, we do not magically rise to the occasion. We return to our last level of training competency.
Slowing down and hoping nothing happens is not preparation.
Training is preparation.
The goal is not to abandon rules. Rules have value. Experience has value. Traffic laws have value.
The undeniable truth: rules are not a substitute for skill
Data-proven best practices and exacting motorcycle control save lives while increasing motorcycle joy.
Motorcycles demand realism. The sooner we embrace that reality, the safer and better we become.
-Chip Spalding