I have C&P'd this from another forum, written by a friend of mine. Its quite long and a bit tongue in cheek (- I hope that doesn't upset you), but it sounds like they weren't shown anything more graphic than the anti-speeding adverts from TV. Unless you think those points are going to seriously adversely affect you (insurance prices or career wise) maybe you should just take them though? It does sound like this kind of course could just be a day of re-hashing horrible memories for you. I think in your shoes I'd be tempted to do that. If you do decide to take the course please please just make sure the trainer knows what you've been through so that they act accordingly and warn you if anything is coming up that might upset you.
SRM
^So I was caught in the car, heading home from work, at 58mph in a 50mph zone.
In my defence it was the time of the Morgan Centenary and I was passing a long line of Morgans (looking at the resulting evidential pic), so I was a bit distracted and didn't see the rear-facing van, which must have been hidden from forward view.
It was also on a former 70mph stretch of rural dual carriageway, so... erm... yes, that's an excuse too
Fast forward a month and a half or so and I'm one of 19 people in a hired hotel conference room, for four hours of 'education'. We're sat behind desks in a horseshoe-shaped formation, so we can all discuss things with one another while still facing the focal point - the projector screen.
Our cheery host, Alastair, has obviously done this a million times before (when I arrived he checked my licence, asked what bike I have then said "oooh, can I have a go?" - something he probably says at every course ) and he lets the first video play as he greets late-comers to the party and checks their docs.
On the screen is a safety advert from a few years ago. The one with a bloke on board a Ducati 999, riding roads featuring signs saying "cow pat 100yds" and "watch out for the tractor". Following that is Sir Jimmy instructing "Clunk, click - every trip".
Then we have the split-screen ad of a hubby and wife, she talking to him on his mobile while he drives... and crashes. We're then treated to the little ('you-shouldn't-have-been-in-the-fucking-road-anyway') girl lying crumpled and dead at the base of a tree, who unbreaks, scoots back onto the Tarmac and draws sudden breath.
And so on. There are seven or eight in total, and Alastair makes us sit through them twice over, having forgotten he'd switched it on in the first place. The tutting and sighing from the assembled bored speeders is audible over the screeching tyres and crunching bones from the projector.
Looking around as the ads repeat themselves, I note the ordinariness of my fellow guilty parties. At 37 I'm certainly in the lower age bracket. I see an equal mix of men and women and later find out that some are retired, some rarely drive but were "popping to the shops" in hubby's car, a couple of (blue) van men, a bloke who drives a Porsche Boxster and two people with Clios. A bloke in a suit, one in work clobber, an old woman with half-moon glasses, three bushy beards and someone who looked like he was only here cos he'd got lost going to the shops. A general cross-section of society, and not a single boy racer in sight.
Our genial host introduces himself as an advanced instructor for both cars and bikes, and waffles on for a bit about his background. He tells us that because the police consider us to be safe drivers, we've been given this opportunity to learn the error of our ways. How the police would actually deem us to be safe, having committed such a heinous crime, is never actually explained despite the point being raised by a grumpy-looking beardy bloke opposite.
We then go round the room one-by-one ("My name is x and I am a speeder") saying who we are, what we drive, how many miles we do per annum and any other info we want to give freely. We all have cards with our names on at the front of our desks, BTW.
Discussion then begins between Alastair and two of the blokes opposite, who suddenly seem intent on questioning. They want to know this, that and the other. They want to know why there are speed limits when we should be able to use common sense more. They want to know why cars are made to travel above 70mph. They want to know everything - and I want to punch them both in the face to shut them up so we can get on with things
We're then split into groups of four or five, given a big sheet of paper and asked to write the excuses we think the police will hear from speeders every day. This is then discussed with much added mirth and encouragement from the well-practiced Alastair as "I needed the toilet", "I was runing out of petrol" and "my wife is having a baby" were trotted out as if by predicatable magic.
Next we're introduced to the booklet that has been sitting patiently on the desks in front of us, and we're asked to write what the personal consequences would be if we were to use terrible excess speed (like 58 in a 50, for instance). After a few minutes we then offer ourselves to the rest of the group, and wheel out injury, death, points and damage as among the most popular.
Ali then pops the PowerPoint on and goes through a few acronyms. I'll be buggered if I can remember them all, but one, IIRC, was COAST:
Concentration
Observation
Attention
Space
Tickling
Something like that, anyway. There was also SPACESHIP, TEABAGGING and COLONOSCOPY, and others which escape me just now. Anyhow, the whole point was to make us remember to do things properly rather than get in the car, hit autopilot, arrive home.
Now by this point I felt suitably bored and patronised. I could tell by the complete silence from the lad beside me that he was feeling roughly the same, and in fact the majority of people in the room appeared to be comatose. But despite my scepticism I could also tell that four or five of my fellow offenders were actually learning something
Without wanting to sound sexist, it was obviously the older women who were picking things up from this deluge of obviousness. These were the people who look but don't "see" bikes. They were the ones who drove everywhere at 40mph, regardless of the conditions or limit, and they were the ones who were most upset at having been caught in the first place.
As I watched I could see pennies dropping as chins were scratched and notes taken. It was a little frightening, to be honest.
After a coffee and bourbon break it was back to business and back to our groups. Each group was given a photograph to study and make notes on the potential hazards. The following discussion then covered everything I do automatically on a bike anyway, but which I'm sure would have been useful to some of the older, less aware, drivers. Junctions; road surfaces; blind corners; suspicious shadows beneath vehicles; approaching traffic; signs... et cetera.
We then moved on to a series of projected pictures about speed limits, and how to tell what was what. It centred on the old lamppost theory, but put us in situations where we had to guess at what the limit was. This, again, was fairly common knowledge but I must admit I learned one or two minor things myself (things which I knew previously but didn't need occupying my head any more). Such as it's possible to have one each-way lane on a dual carriageway rather than two.
Things were heading towards a close by this point, but there was a little more scribbling in our booklets and a few more projected images. We learned about the speed resitrictions for HGVs, caravans and the like, learned about rotational-something-or-other which is the way the body travels when it's hit by a car. Good old Alastair laser pointed, cracked 'jokes' and finally declared that we had all passed the course. This was despite four or five people having barely spoken throughout the session. Hmmm.
As I headed from the room Alastair stood by the door making a point of shaking everyone's sweaty mitt. It amused me that as he shook mine while offering a friendly smile, he was actually pulling me towards the door at the same time. I don't know who wanted me out quicker - me or him
All-in-all it wasn't an unpleasant experience. It wasn't awfully enlightening either, but it was a damn sight better than getting three points.
If you're offered one make sure you take it. Go along, eat the biscuits and nod where necessary.
You never know - you might learn something. It's not likely, but you might.^