MY teenage pupils have taught me a great deal about such things as texting, fashion and modern slang but I will never forget the day one of them taught me something about good driving.

This pupil had come to me from another school of motoring where he had learned the basics of car control but he was driving with a confidence that belied his ability, which was making me feel a little uncomforta-ble.

As we drove around a quiet estate on a damp, dark evening, he was darting in and out around parked cars, driving too close to them and too fast for the conditions.

I found myself repeatedly telling him to slow down and move out earlier for obstructions, while discussing the potential danger of his driving.

Then, without warning, he slowly came to a complete stop for no apparent reason.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Frog," he said.

I looked ahead but I couldn't see a frog, so I wondered if perhaps frog' was a new swear word I hadn't heard before.

"Frog?" I asked.

"There on the road," he said, nodding at the windscreen.

I looked more carefully at the road surface and then noticed some movement.

Indeed, there was a tiny, Tarmac-coloured frog sitting in the middle of the road.

"Oh yes," I said. "He's well camouflaged, isn't he? Well spotted."

As we continued around the estate, I noticed Mr Learner was very aware of the road surface slowing down unnecessarily for bumps and uneven sections while he seemed unconcerned about his close proximity to parked cars. Then the penny finally dropped he was driving like a biker.

"Do you ride a motorcycle?" I asked.

"Yep," he said.

"Ahh! That explains your excellent awareness of the road surface," I commented.

"Yeah, well, a mate of mine came off when he hit a frog," he said.

"It could also explain why you are driving so close to the parked cars," I suggested. "I guess you're not used to being seated so far from them.

"And all that darting in and out and noisy acceleration you're driving like you're on a motorbike."

Armed with this knowledge, my job suddenly became a lot easier and the discomfort of the first ten minutes started to ease.

And by the end of the lesson we both came away feeling like we had learnt something. What I learned was that perhaps I don't pay as much attention as I could to the road surface.

While a car driver can plough through minor bumps and dents without noticing, thanks to good suspension and the stability of four wheels, a motorcyclist has to observe the road surface much more carefully.

Motorcyclists are also likely to be more aware of the weather, their speed and their lack of protection; whereas car drivers, who are cocooned in safe, warm, quiet shells, can easily become desensitised to such matters as their vulnerability.

Recently, I witnessed a learner motorcyclist misjudge a bend, mount a pavement at slow speed and then fall off, with the bike landing heavily on top of her.

I stopped to help her up and, although she was shocked and tearful, thankfully, she was unhurt.

That accident happened when she was only doing about 8mph.

Had she been a learner driver in a car hitting the kerb at the same speed, she probably would have just bounced onto the pavement and steered off again, no harm done.

Two thoughts crossed my mind as I drove away from that scene.

One was that, of the two learners, the motorcyclist would have learned her lesson harder but more indelibly.

My other thought was that I wished my Wycombe Driving School roof sign hadn't been on while I was attending to the scene of an accident.

That didn't look very good for business!

Audrey Wixon is director of Wycombe Driving School www.wycombedrivingschool.co.uk