Yesterday, while working on Myto and trying to understand adventure riders better, I came across a book called The Mom Test by Rob Fitzpatrick. The core idea of the book is surprisingly simple: people will lie to you when you're talking about your idea, not because they're trying to mislead you, but because they're trying to be nice.

If I asked my mother, "I'm thinking of building a motorcycle navigation device. Would you buy one?" she would probably say, "That sounds great!" even if she had absolutely no intention of ever buying it. Most people do the same thing. They don't want to hurt your feelings, so they encourage you. The problem is that encouragement feels like validation, and validation feels like progress, but neither tells you whether you're actually solving a real problem.

When I started speaking with riders about Myto, I was unknowingly making this exact mistake. I would ask questions like, "Would you use a better navigation system?", "Would you buy a motorcycle navigation computer?", "Do you think this product is useful?", or "What do you think about this idea?" On the surface these questions seem reasonable, but they are actually terrible questions if your goal is to learn the truth.

The problem is that these questions ask people to imagine a future that doesn't exist. They ask for opinions, guesses, and predictions. People are surprisingly bad at predicting what they will do in the future, and they're even worse when they're trying to be polite.

The Mom Test suggests something completely different. Instead of asking people what they would do, ask them what they already did. Instead of asking for opinions, ask for stories. Instead of pitching your solution, investigate their problems.

The shift sounds small, but it completely changes the quality of information you receive.

For example, instead of asking, "Would you like a better navigation system?" I now ask, "Tell me about the last long ride you went on. How did you navigate?" This question uncovers real behaviour. Maybe they relied entirely on Google Maps. Maybe they followed a friend. Maybe they got lost halfway through the ride. Maybe navigation wasn't a problem at all. Every answer becomes useful because it is grounded in a real experience.

Instead of asking, "Would you buy a motorcycle navigation computer?" I ask, "Have you ever had trouble using your phone for navigation while riding? What happened?" Now we're talking about an actual event rather than a hypothetical purchase.

If they've struggled with overheating, rain, vibration, battery drain, or poor visibility, they'll tell the story. If they haven't experienced any of those problems, that is valuable information too. Either way, I'm learning something real.

The same principle applies to every feature I have been exploring for Myto. Rather than asking riders whether they want better lighting, I ask them about the last time they rode at night, repaired their motorcycle in the dark, or set up camp after sunset. Instead of asking if a compact toolkit sounds useful, I ask them about the last breakdown they had on the road and what tools they carried. Rather than asking if waterproof luggage would be valuable, I ask about the last time rain ruined something they packed.

The difference between these two styles of questioning is subtle but powerful. One asks people to imagine. The other asks them to remember.

Memory is evidence.

Imagination is fiction.

What surprised me most is that good customer interviews don't feel like interviews at all. They feel like conversations. The goal isn't to sell your idea or convince someone that your solution is brilliant. The goal is to understand someone's life deeply enough that the problems become obvious.

How I changed my questions

I now start conversations with riders using simple background questions. What motorcycle do they ride? How often do they go touring? What was their most recent long ride? How many kilometres was it? Do they usually ride solo or with a group? What is the longest trip they've completed in the last year?

These questions help establish context before diving deeper. Someone who goes on one long ride every year has very different needs compared to someone who spends every other weekend on the road.

Once that context is established, I ask them to walk me through their last ride from start to finish. How did they plan the route? How did they carry luggage? What tools did they bring? What went wrong? What frustrated them? What workarounds have they developed over time?

The workarounds are often the most interesting part of the conversation. Whenever someone has modified an accessory, taped something to their motorcycle, carried multiple products to solve a single problem, or developed a strange routine before every ride, it usually means they are solving a problem that existing products aren't addressing properly.

Those improvised solutions are often where opportunities hide.

The lesson that hit me the hardest

The biggest lesson from The Mom Test isn't really about asking better questions. It's about letting go of the desire to hear good news.

As founders, we naturally want people to tell us our idea is brilliant. We want validation. We want confirmation that we're on the right track. But compliments don't build businesses.

Problems do.

Every time someone tells me that Myto sounds like a great idea, I now treat it as almost meaningless information.

But when someone tells me that their phone died halfway through a ride in heavy rain, or that they carry three separate tools because they can't find one compact kit that does everything they need, or that their luggage got soaked during a multi-day trip, I pay attention.

Those stories are real.

They happened.

And real problems are what products are built on.

The next time I talk to riders about Myto, I won't ask whether they like my idea.

I'll ask them about their last ride.

That's where the truth lives.

If you're a motorcyclist who enjoys touring, adventure riding, or long-distance travel, I'm currently speaking with riders to better understand the challenges they face on the road.

I'd love to hear about your experiences.

Survey: Share your riding experience - this is a short 10 minute survey

It only takes a few minutes and focuses entirely on your real riding experiences rather than opinions about product ideas.