It’s always a surprise when you find out that you might not be as good at something as someone else, especially if you think you’re pretty handy.
The other week one of my friends picked up my bass guitar and proceeded to play it better than I ever have, leaving me shocked as I didn’t know he could do it at all, let alone to that level.
I also ate humble pie earlier this month when – as a part of Bridgestone’s new Potenza RE005 media preview – we were taken to the Norwell Motorplex, where I quickly discovered that my driving left room for improvements.
I like to pride myself on being a good driver. I’ll never win a racing championship, but I’d like to think I can still give mates a fun experience as passengers on twisty roads while keeping us all safe.
It didn’t take long for the experienced and helpful team at Norwell to pick me up on my bad habits.
With a stopwatch being used to take our times and a host of industry colleagues, I wanted to push myself and show that whatever skills I had at the local hire kart track growing up.
Soon enough, there was feedback which changed my thinking. “You’re giving it too many inputs. You’re too eager. You’re not looking far enough ahead.”
In the moment, I thought I was doing a decent job, but actively thinking about what I was doing wasn’t just affecting the time recorded on the stopwatch, but also how the car was reacting.
If I was driving like that on a public road, I would’ve been leaving myself next to no room for error, only thinking about what was directly in front of me and reacting to what the car was doing, rather than being proactive.
I think many drivers on the road do the same, and not just those who take it to the hills on the weekend.
Almost every multi-vehicle crash you see is because someone wasn’t thinking far enough ahead, believing whatever could happen won’t happen to them because their skill level – at least in their heads – is above everyone else.
This raises a number of issues. If you think you’re better than you are, it’s less likely that you’ll listen to advice. Why would you need to improve on perfection?
It also leads to the blame game being shifted. How many times have we seen dash-cam videos where the following car – the one who by the letter of the law is the one at fault – gets angry at whatever they’ve got caught up in ahead of them, simply because they were thinking they wouldn’t be involved in the inevitable drama?
Of course this transfers to the track as well. I used to do track days with semi-frequent attendance, but in the years since I did so my driving skills have reduced, and I’ve become complacent.
The feedback from Norwell’s instructors wasn’t to try and slow me down or discourage me, it was to help me learn, not just to help me go faster but to enjoy the experience more.
We had another few hitouts at a short dry slalom course, and I got faster every run by being given constant advice on how to improve. “Slow your hands, look through the corner, trust the tyre”.
By the end of the short session I was almost two seconds faster than at the beginning, a huge saving for a short 20-second exercise.
While untimed, the instruction was even more critical when we took to the full circuit for back-to-back laps, something which can end up being tiring physically and mentally.
Again, similar advice was given to focus on what was ahead of me beyond the length of the bonnet. At the conclusion, I was trusted to make my own driving decisions.
Sure, it helps that through sim racing and a love of motorsport I understand in theory how cars are meant to work in a performance sense, but what counts most is being open to constructive criticism.
That’s something most drivers on the road should be more aware of: it’s ok to not be perfect, but you can always be better.
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