Here I am, a trembling, wide-eyed sack of nerves masquerading as a human torpedo, still recovering from my first-ever attempt at riding a motorcycle.
And when I say riding, I mean I climbed onto that missile with the confidence of a toddler getting on a warthog. My soul left my body before I even touched the start button. My armpits broke into a flood riot. My but hole became a washer-making factory. I was numb!
So, there I was, crouched over the tank like a constipated cat, praying in three languages, when the instructor said, “Okay, gently release the clutch.”
Gently? My brother from another mother, I released that clutch like it was a live grenade. The bike launched forward, my life flashed before my eyes, and I’m pretty sure my ancestors felt a disturbance in the force.
Suddenly, I was MOVING.
Wind in my face.
Holding my breath.
Clenching the seat.
I wasn’t sure if it was joy or the early onset of a panic-induced stroke.
But then, OH …MY …WORD…
There came a moment. A shift. A cosmic alignment.
Second gear clicked in, and my brain whispered, “Wait… is this… nice??”
My stomach, previously in a tight knot plotting my funeral arrangements, started slow clapping.
My heart, slamming against my ribs, suddenly said, “Hang on… we’re actually doing this.”
For a brief, glorious moment of “hold my milk, I’m gonna be awesome”…
I seemed at peace.
The engine purred.
Balance was restored.
Just as I started believing I was the chosen one, a bug the size of a small car kamikazed into my visor, whiplashed, I screamed so loudly the instructor stalled HIS bike.
But honestly?
That first ride didn’t just thrill me, it healed me.
It slapped my depression, high-fived my anxiety, and gave my low self-esteem a much-needed kick in the face.
When I switched the bike off, shaky and reborn, I heard angels sing. Might’ve been in my head. Might’ve been a panic hallucination. Doesn’t matter.
I, the fool who once feared bicycles, have now tasted the forbidden fruit of horsepower… and I want MORE.
Tomorrow, I might even try third gear.
Pray for me… or come watch me ride. Either way, there must be others like me.
I rate my first motorcycle ride a solid 8 out of 10.
Still a bit of a snotty texture (that was me), but overall… flippen lekker!
