It's been a frantic few weeks on the region's roads. As winter hit hard after new year, ice has caused dozens of accidents.

But how many of those accidents might have been avoided if the drivers had been properly trained to regain control over a skidding car?

If you have ever attempted to drive on an ungritted road during an icy spell you will know just how difficult it is to teeter precariously through a village at 5mph. So imagine finding yourself in a skid and losing control of your vehicle at 30mph or even at 70mph.

If you travel roughly three car lengths for every second you move at 30mph, and it takes even the sharpest minds more than three quarters of a second to begin acting upon a skid, it's fair to say that every millisecond counts. By the time you know you're skidding, the accident is nearly over. So doing the right thing in that briefest moment really could mean the difference between living and dying, either for you, your passengers, other drivers or pedestrians.

With that sobering thought in mind, I was keen to sign up for the three-hour skid control course at the Castle Combe race circuit. Every ambulance driver in the West takes part in the course during their training, and many local authorities send their gritter drivers to the Wiltshire racing venue so they know what to expect as they make the roads safe for the rest of us.

With dawn breaking across the wintry sky, I arrived at the course bleary-eyed, ready for a few hours in a classroom with slide shows and videos and those whiteboard felt pens that never work.

My instructor Keith Nokes had other ideas. "If you want to, just get in the car and have a go," he said, with a hint of a smile. "It's best to see what you do naturally on the slippery surface before we teach you anything."

OK, I mused nervously to myself, starting the engine on the Rover saloon car and edging on to the skid pan – a track chemically treated to simulate ultra-icy conditions.

For a moment, I was lulled into a false sense of security. I'd made second gear without crashing, and even on the bends I managed to hold the corners despite having to grapple awkwardly with the under-steering Rover.

"Try the Beamer," Keith offered as I parked back in the safe bay.

The rear-wheeled BMW was a completely different experience, sliding all over the place, the over-steer turning the nose of the car in on a different time zone to the rest of the vehicle.

Each of the four wheels revved at whichever speed it chose, like four naughty Dobermans straining on their lead for a new walker. Inside, my arms were flailing wildly as I span the steering wheel from one direction to the next, desperately trying to keep on the track.

As I parked up and staggered breathlessly out of the car, Keith smiled wryly once again.

"So which car skidded more?" he asked.

"The Beamer, of course," I panted.

Keith grinned again. "That's the dangerous thing. They were both skidding, only the Beamer lets you know about it."

I must have looked baffled because Keith sat me down and explained the science. The rear-wheeled BMW will always over-steer on ice – that is, it will want to keep turning too far into a corner, resulting ultimately in a spin.

More subtle is the Rover, which, like most saloon cars, is front-wheel driven. The Rover will generally under-steer into an icy corner – that is, it will appear to want to keep driving straight on, as if ignoring the corner completely.

Most drivers have the correct natural instinct with the rear-wheel car – that is, to turn into the skid and out of the over-steer. But natural reactions fail you when it comes to the front-wheel car.

When you feel the under-steer, naturally you want to steer more to compensate. But, as Keith pointed out, finally getting to use a whiteboard and marker pen, the best way to regain traction is to momentarily straighten your wheels and then try turning again.

Back on the circuit, the theory came in to practice with remarkable clarity.

Suddenly, I was able to get the better of the under-steer, and with a few nifty clutch tricks courtesy of Keith, I found the BMW much friendlier, too.

Keith has been teaching the course for 13 years after an amateur career racing Porsches in the national circuit championships.

"We get a real range of people on the course," he says. "Lately, we've had a lot of concerned parents bringing their teenage sons and daughters along – though we stipulate that those taking part should have at least 12 months road experience after passing their test before they try driving on a skid pan.

"But there is a complete span of ages and backgrounds. We once had a 93-year-old take part – he did really well, too. After all, you're never too old to learn.

"Sometimes, people come along because they have had a bad experience in their cars losing control in ice or rain. You can tell by the nervous look on their faces at the start of the session that they have a story to tell.

"But we're normally able to give them their confidence back, by explaining exactly what happened during their accident. It makes a big difference if you can actually understand what happened and what you could have to done to avoid it."

The frost was still hanging in the trees as we moved on to the second part of the course and the all important emergency stop – the four-wheel skid.

We all remember doing an emergency stop in our driving test, but to get our licence all we have to do is slam the brakes on with a certain degree of road awareness. Doing it in icy conditions or while aquaplaning on a rain-soaked road is another matter altogether.

Keith informed me that the single cone in the distance was a pedestrian. I put my foot on the accelerator and speeded towards it. With a last minute word from Keith, I braked sharply and, moments later, found myself careering into the hapless cone. As Keith left the car to put the cone back together, it was sobering to realise the implications that scenario would have had in reality.

In a flash, my mind painted the picture horribly: rain, shock, silence and one more fatal statistic lying in front of my bonnet.

"It's OK, the cone's in one piece," Keith smiled as he sat back into the car before explaining a series of techniques to help me avoid the "pedestrian" next time.

Elements such as cadence braking – that is, pumping the brakes in rapid spurts – and the intricacies of clutch braking, both helped. But the most dramatic difference came with Keith's simplest piece of advice.

"Don't look at the pedestrian," he explained. "The minute you brake you should be looking away at your escape route, not what you're trying to avoid. It's a certainty of the human mind that you will hit the thing you're looking at."

Sure enough, the next time round with my two feet stamping at the clutch and brake, my eyes darted to the right, away from the cone. I steered and lifted the brake before braking again, and found myself weaving miraculously around the pedestrian.

And it was no fluke. Time and time again, this technique worked.

Even when the braking came just feet away from the obstruction, I found myself steering through the skid and avoiding another collision.

My mind flashed back to the imagined scene. The rain, shock and silence were still there, but now they were joined by a near-miss – a swerve, a screech and a stunned pedestrian jumping back on to the pavement imagining what might have been.

Maybe we should all make an effort to develop our driving beyond the basic techniques that simply allowed us to pass our test – for the sake of everyone on the roads.

Castle Combe's Skid Control Course costs £89. For more information, call 01249 783010 or visit the website www.combe-events.co.uk