I was cycling out of the village on the Kangaroo bike this morning, homeward bound after dropping the Wee ‘Un at nursery, when I was overtaken by black Vauxhall Corsa with driving school badges.
The young woman driving respected my position on the road, allowed plenty of room as she overtook, and waited until she was clear of me before pulling back in.
I was musing that it was a shame more experienced drivers couldn’t do the same, when the Corsa indicated and pulled into a farm gateway.
To my surprise, the instructor hopped out and waved me down.
He grinned, and said, “This is probably a bit cheeky, but I was wondering if we could practice overtaking you a few times, with you in the primary and second positions, especially as the road changes so much heading out of the village?”
He paused.
“She’s already done a few lessons and is quite good or I wouldn’t ask, but your bike’s so big it would be good practise and lead up to normal bikes.”
I laughed and said, “Sure, I still have two miles to go and don’t mind helping someone learn how to drive around bikes. Just be careful on the blind bends.”
He thanked me and got back in, while I cycled around them and on towards Dunnideer hill.
Unfortunately, I forgot to change the bike cam’s batteries this morning and they’d failed on the way into the village, otherwise I would have had quite a funny clip to show for it.
Not that the learner driver did anything wrong, far from it.
But it was decidedly strange to take different positions so the same car could keep overtaking me, then watch it pull in so I could take the lead again.
Alternatively, the instructor would get the learner to do a three-point turn, not easy in some places, drive back past me, do another three-point turn and then come up behind me again.
The driver certainly got a lot of practice in over the next mile and a half or so.
To start with, we were on a reasonably wide carriageway with centre lines, then it was uphill and around a blind bend (the driver maintained a good distance and only overtook after clearing the bend), still with a reasonable road width.
After that, though, we hit the rural road proper with no centre lane, a marked decrease in with, banks and/or ditches to the sides, and poor sight lines.
I quite enjoyed myself, switching from primary to secondary position and back again, dodging potholes, avoiding puddles and mud, and taking my time on the worst sections of hill (going slower than usual for effect).
Of course, I was also keeping a keen eye (and ear) out for other traffic, with the occasional van making life even more interesting for the learner.
Finally, the car pulled in to another farm gate entrance and they both thanked me before heading on up the road.
If more driving instructors thought and acted like that, then I suspect more drivers would have more respect for cyclists and drive accordingly. Nice one.
I’m possibly a bit thick, but it is a long time since I rode a bike……what are the primary and second positions when on a bike? The mind boggles….!
That’s great! The Netherlands has plenty of dedicated bicycle paths, but especially in rural areas and city traffic a driver needs to know what to do. My instructor told me (years ago) to imagine an extra cyclist before, beside and behind the actual cyclist and overtake with a safe margin to the imagined cyclist.Works great; I always try to do that. But then I am a cyclist myself…
What a wonderful positive story - I wish more driving instructors would be like that.
The primary position is the centre of the lane that you’re riding in (and should be the left-hand lane on multi-lane roads where it is legal to cycle). The secondary position is about a metre to the left of the traffic stream, but at least half a metre in from the edge of the road (allowing room to manoeuvre in an emergency, plus space to avoid hazards such as crumbling edges, potholes and the like).
Generally, the primary position is the most visible and safest for a cyclist, while the secondary helps following traffic see ahead and overtake more easily. The primary position theoretically forces drivers to remain behind you until it is safe to overtake, but in practice aggressive drivers in large vehicles will simply plough through as if you’d don’t exist. It can be quite hairy as you try to decide if the following vehicle is just trying to intimidate you out of the way or if they really will go over the top.
Of course, that’s on road that’s wide enough to have marked lanes. On a narrow, winding country road you have to allow room for oncoming traffic; keep yourself well away from the crumbling verges, ditches, banks and deep lagoons intruding well onto the road. You also have to avoid cow manure (very slippery), large clods of mud that have fallen off tractors, and even dead animals.
Once I’ve left the marked lane just outside the village, I tend to ride as if moving along a line passing through the passenger seat of a car—about one metre in from the edge of the road. I move out wider when I don’t feel it’s safe to be overtaken or moving in to allow oncoming traffic to go by.
You have to be quite assertive to ride safely as most drivers respond poorly to timid riding. However, you also have to bear in mind that the 30-tonne gravel lorry or tractor towing 50-plus sheep can plough straight over you if the driver so wishes. (And will probably get away with by claiming they didn’t see you.)
When I’ve got a car following behind me aggressively and trying to force me over so it can overtake when I don’t think it’s safe, I find I stick my elbows out to make myself appear wider. I don’t know if it really makes a difference, but it makes me feel more in control of the situation.
That is a great story. Gives me a little more faith in humanity!