I’ll be honest. I get worn down. For the vast majority of my adult life, I have worked in areas of war, disaster, crisis, or someone’s worst day of their life. You have to have some outlets. Motorcycles are one of many for me.
Ride is life… riding is effort, struggle, community, and freedom. There’s something about the hum of the engine beneath you, the wind rushing past, and the open road stretching out into the horizon that just clears the mind. When life gets overwhelming (which is always for me) I throw my leg over the bike, start her up, and for a while, it’s just me and the road. The stress, the worries, the noise—all of it fades into the background as the miles roll by.
Out here, it’s simple. It’s pure. The weight lifts off my shoulders with every twist of the throttle. Riding isn’t just a hobby; it’s therapy. It’s that deep breath you take after being underwater too long. The freedom and focus of the ride strip away everything else, leaving just the here and now. Watching my son transform from a novice into a long-haired menace that shreds it has been so fulfilling. Now, watching a little ballerina hop on the back of a 50 cc might be the rad moment of my life.
So, when life feels too heavy, I ride. Because sometimes, the best way to find yourself is to get a little lost on the road.
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