As the mornings are crisp and the afternoons are still warm and bright, those who have lived here long enough know it’s time to put away the summer toys and lawn chairs and prepare for the season we know is coming.
Recently, I took my final motorcycle ride for the season. It was fitting, in a way, that it was a solo ride. Typically, Dad would have been with me.
See, this was the summer I learned to ride. Last summer, over a year ago, I had a vision in my mind of being able to ride with my Dad, alongside him. I spent last winter planning, researching licensing requirements, looking into instructional classes, and building my credit so I could purchase a bike.
Come springtime, we found one and bought her even before I had my first lesson. At first, all I could do was attempt short starts and stops in an empty parking lot. Eventually, I could make some large, sweeping circles, and then I thought I’d give an actual street a try.
What happened? I immediately tipped her over. First attempt. Fail.
Try again, and again. Weeks go by. Now I can semi-confidently “toodle” (that’s a technical word, lol) around the empty parking lot and even successfully ride on the backcountry roads.
That led to both of us riding what turned out to be the standard loop we used all summer to practice: back roads around the lake to the neighboring town, around that lake, and back home.
Man, the first time, I was so scared. My entire body was tense. I was gripping the handlebars so tightly that my body ached simply from the tension. I couldn’t think of anything except trying to stay upright. Dad was always with me, watching carefully and helping me pick her up when I tipped over. And I did lay her down a few more times over the summer.
But the more times we rode, the more relaxed I got. By this last ride, I was comfortable going alone. I was no longer tense the whole time. My body was relaxed, my mind able to flow. I did it. I learned to ride.
This final ride, before my red, sassy Harley goes in the trailer for hibernation, was a solo ride. I did it comfortably, confidently, and fully able to enjoy it for what it was.
Isn’t that true of new things in our lives, too? Something starts as a spark, a vision, a “wouldn’t it be cool if…” thought in your mind. So many people leave it there. It just stops as that single thought.
But what if you don’t let it stop there? What if you start researching, then taking steps, even if it seems as ridiculous as purchasing a Harley when you’ve never ridden so much as a dirt bike or even had a license?
Keep walking toward whatever it is. Maybe it’s a new career, maybe it’s a business idea, maybe it’s a physical goal. It doesn’t matter what it is. Keep moving toward it.
Start scared. Start with your whole body aching with fear. Start with short starts and stops, then take bigger steps. And even if you tip over a few times, it’s fine. Get up. Try again. Eventually, your body will relax. You’ll look around, and you’ll be cruising.
That feeling is a high you can’t get anywhere else. The high of taking something from your mind that seems so far out of reach and making it a reality. It literally feels like nothing can stop you, and you immediately start planning the next one.
What’s your next adventure? What’s that thing that’s in your mind right now as you read this?
I implore you not to let it sit there in your mind. Grab it and make it a reality.
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