I took a motorcycle safety class this weekend. Good class, excellent instructors, but not really what I want to talk about. What I want to talk about is the advice that one of the instructors gave me. It was (and I'm paraphrasing heavily):
"You ride well. Don't get cocky, or you'll end up dead."
That's good advice because when he gave it, I was getting cocky. Taking corners too fast, accelerating too hard (well, as hard as you can on a 250 CC training bike), and generally being a gomer.
I've decided the world needs more people who will give that kind of advice. Look at what he did. First, he started by telling me what I was doing right. That's important because if he would have started with, "Holy crap, you suck. I've seen people going through seizures handle a bike better than that,” I would have ignored anything else he had to say.
Almost as important as giving the compliment (those in the business call it “positive reinforcement”), is giving a sincere compliment. I believed him because I’d seen him spend most of the weekend frowning and pointing out everything I (and everyone else in the class) was doing wrong. Disingenuous compliments are useless. Say Bob ran over another bike, careened wildly off course, and then nailed a tree. If the instructor would have told him he was doing a good job and then told the same thing to me, I would have ignored everything else he had to say just as quickly as if he told me I stunk on ice.
But then, after saying I was doing great, he told me that spending too much time thinking I was doing great would get me killed. How’s that for fun advice? To be perfectly honest, when he said it, it ticked me off. Cocky? Me? I thought to myself (and once again I paraphrase heavily):
"Just because I’m the best rider out on the course and could do their sad little exercises blind folded, with my arms tied behind my back, and sitting backwards on my bike doesn’t mean I'm getting cocky. Er… uh…."
And about that point I realized that I was, indeed, getting cocky and was probably heading toward spending an unpleasant evening bleeding slowly to death in some ditch somewhere. And he could have let me head merrily down that path. He probably knew that telling me I was being cocky would upset me a little bit. But he, being a reasonably intelligent human being, decided that a small bit of discomfort then would be better than agonizing pain and death later. Pretty simple math, but how often do we just let stuff like that slide?
The instructor didn't tell me what I wanted to hear. He told me what I needed to hear. That’s the kind of advice I need more often.
Disclaimer: This doesn't mean you can run off pointing out everything everyone around you is doing wrong. Remember that bit in the Bible about the log in your eye and the speck in your brother's? Discretion, people, is the better part of not getting the stuffing kicked out of you.
"You ride well. Don't get cocky, or you'll end up dead."
That's good advice because when he gave it, I was getting cocky. Taking corners too fast, accelerating too hard (well, as hard as you can on a 250 CC training bike), and generally being a gomer.
I've decided the world needs more people who will give that kind of advice. Look at what he did. First, he started by telling me what I was doing right. That's important because if he would have started with, "Holy crap, you suck. I've seen people going through seizures handle a bike better than that,” I would have ignored anything else he had to say.
Almost as important as giving the compliment (those in the business call it “positive reinforcement”), is giving a sincere compliment. I believed him because I’d seen him spend most of the weekend frowning and pointing out everything I (and everyone else in the class) was doing wrong. Disingenuous compliments are useless. Say Bob ran over another bike, careened wildly off course, and then nailed a tree. If the instructor would have told him he was doing a good job and then told the same thing to me, I would have ignored everything else he had to say just as quickly as if he told me I stunk on ice.
But then, after saying I was doing great, he told me that spending too much time thinking I was doing great would get me killed. How’s that for fun advice? To be perfectly honest, when he said it, it ticked me off. Cocky? Me? I thought to myself (and once again I paraphrase heavily):
"Just because I’m the best rider out on the course and could do their sad little exercises blind folded, with my arms tied behind my back, and sitting backwards on my bike doesn’t mean I'm getting cocky. Er… uh…."
And about that point I realized that I was, indeed, getting cocky and was probably heading toward spending an unpleasant evening bleeding slowly to death in some ditch somewhere. And he could have let me head merrily down that path. He probably knew that telling me I was being cocky would upset me a little bit. But he, being a reasonably intelligent human being, decided that a small bit of discomfort then would be better than agonizing pain and death later. Pretty simple math, but how often do we just let stuff like that slide?
The instructor didn't tell me what I wanted to hear. He told me what I needed to hear. That’s the kind of advice I need more often.
Disclaimer: This doesn't mean you can run off pointing out everything everyone around you is doing wrong. Remember that bit in the Bible about the log in your eye and the speck in your brother's? Discretion, people, is the better part of not getting the stuffing kicked out of you.
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