Today I seem to have acquired a new nickname.
A customer took a selfie after our ride, sent it to his dad, and his dad promptly ran it through AI. Out came a tweed-clad version of me, complete with bow tie, standing in front of a TARDIS. Affectionately labelled Doctor Rob.
I’ll take that.
Because in a way, that’s exactly what today was. A simple diagnosis, a few small adjustments, and a noticeably smoother outcome.
The rider had already passed his CBT. What he wanted wasn’t a test or a tick box, just some developmental tips to help him feel more confident and more in control on real roads. Proper roads. The sort we actually ride on around here.
We started with the basics. Feet on the pegs. Not just where they go, but when they come off and go back on. It’s one of those things that rarely gets explored properly early on, yet it has a huge impact on stability, balance, and how settled the bike feels underneath you. Once that clicked, everything else started to stack neatly on top.
Then came hill starts. Proper ones. The kind you get on big Peak District hills where gravity is not on your side and hesitation quickly turns into tension. On the CBT he’d only practised a very gentle version. Today we worked on being more positive, more deliberate, and more confident with clutch, throttle, and rear brake. Aggressive when it needs to be, smooth when it matters.
But the real transitional moment of the day was corners.
Not just how to take them, but why they feel the way they do at speed. We talked about bends as experiences rather than obstacles. About feedback through the bars and the seat. About trust. After following him for a few miles, the pattern was clear. A small steering habit that was holding him back, and a missed opportunity to let the bike do what it’s designed to do.
So we worked on countersteering. Properly. Consciously. Gently at first, then with growing confidence. Less effort, more intent. The difference was immediate.
The ride back was night and day.
Smoother lines. Calmer inputs. A rider who looked settled, composed, and very much in control. And most importantly, someone who was clearly enjoying the ride a lot more.
Those are my favourite days. Not big dramatic interventions, just small, well-timed insights that unlock something new. A reminder that good riding isn’t about bravado or speed, it’s about understanding.
So yes, maybe Doctor Rob isn’t such a bad nickname after all.
No sonic screwdriver required. Just observation, explanation, and a love of seeing riders grow.
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