Finding First Gear: What Motorcycles Taught Me at 51 That Life Before Never Did

In my early 50's, I found myself straddling a black Kawasaki Ninja 125cc, hands trembling slightly under worn-in gloves, heart pounding like a drum inside my helmet. I was sitting at the edge of a quiet street, engine humming beneath me, staring down a road I never thought I’d be brave enough to take.

There’s something strangely poetic about starting over in first gear. Quite literally.

This was not just about riding a motorcycle. This was about reclaiming my life as a human being.

The Person I Used to Know

You spend your life doing what’s expected — moving out, getting a job, forging a career, having kids, paying a mortgage, caregiving, putting your dreams quietly on a shelf for “later.” But what happens when later finally arrives and you barely recognise the person in the mirror?

Ok, so you might be a little greyer around the gills with the odd additional pound or two, but you’re still the same person, aren’t you?

Well, that was me at 51. Somewhere between brave and slightly broken. Still smiling, still capable, but quietly grieving the pieces of myself I’d given away so freely for decades. For my job, I was rapidly losing interest. I wasn’t unhappy — I just wasn’t fully… me — I was a job description, an employee that had a few bites taken out, a parent and a child to elderly parents. Something was blatantly missing, and it took the roar of a little 125cc motorcycle and the rush of wind through my jacket to realise what the heck that was.

Motorcycling wasn’t about rebellion or escapism. Ok, so we might have watched Steve McQueen in The Great Escape, and even Marlon Brando in The Wild One, yet it wasn’t even about speed for me or even being cool. No, motorcycling as this ripe old age was about remembering who I was before the world told me I should be quiet and conform.

First Gear is the Hardest

When you first learn to ride, first gear is always the most difficult. It’s jerky. You stall a lot and bounce down the road which is what I did. You second-guess every movement from your head to your toes. Your confidence feels like a puddle under your wheels, and every corner looms like a mountain that is impossible to overcome.

But here’s the secret: First gear is where learning lives.

You have to go through the wobbles — there is no avoiding that. You have to feel the fear. That’s how you earn the ride. And isn’t that true of life, too? We wobble, we doubt ourselves. We mess up, we start again. How many of us spend years stuck in neutral because we’re too afraid of looking daft, too scared to fail, too tired to try something new?

Riding taught me that imperfection is the price of growth — and it’s worth every penny and no one has the right to tell you otherwise.

Reclaiming Space, Reclaiming Self

As we age, we’re often told to shrink and become almost insignificant. To quieten down. To stop taking risks and make it safely to the grave in one piece and to make way for the next generation.

But on a motorcycle, you take up space on the road. You claim your space to be — physically, emotionally, spiritually. You roll up to the lights, engine throbbing, shoulders back. You arrive. There is no blending into the background on a bike. You are loud (especially with a nice exhaust) you are there and present.

Every ride is a declaration: I’m still here. I still matter. So there.

The first time I parked outside a café, helmet under one arm, hair flat and flying backwards, cheeks slightly crumpled from helmet straps and wind-kissed, I saw someone in the reflection of the window who looked alive — still pretty rough looking but alive. Not perfect, not fearless — but real. And I liked that person. I had missed it.

What Riding Has Given Me (So Far)

It’s given me back my voice — I can speak up. Not take any rubbish from anyone. Choose the people who I want to give my time to and ignore the ones I don’t.

It’s given me permission to dream. Think big and think boldly.

It’s given me the audacity to try, fail, get up and try again.

It’s reminded me that life doesn’t end at 50 or more — it just shifts gears into a new dimension. I am not ‘past it’ — not yet anyway.

I’ve cried under my helmet from sheer pride and at times, anguish. I have shouted and screamed louder than I have in any car. I’ve yelled in frustration on a hill start whilst rolling backwards.

I’ve laughed with strangers at laybys and never got to know their names. I have shared coffee and muddy boots and jokes with people who have made me smile when I didn’t want to. I’ve built strength in my legs (and aching knees) and have found grit in my soul.

And all of it started in first gear.

For Everyone Who Thinks It’s Too Late

Let me be clear: It’s never too late. Write that down if need be.

It’s never too late to start something new — let along motorcycling. To surprise yourself. To say, “I’m not done yet.” Whether it’s riding a bike, writing a book, trying a new career, or simply choosing yourself for the first time in years — first gear is waiting, just for you to choose it.

Yes, it’s flipping hard and it will be at times. Yes, you’ll stall, as we all do at some point in life. Yes, you’ll have days where you think, “What the hell am I doing?” I have had jobs like that too.

But then you’ll look back and see how far you’ve come — and you’ll realise you’re not just learning to ride, you’re learning to do everything you have ever wanted to do.

You’re learning to live. And perhaps, again.

So here’s to all everyone out there starting over. No matter what it is.

Here’s to the late bloomers, the dreamers, the quiet warriors, the ones who are learning that courage doesn’t come before the first step — it comes because of it. (Something else you can write down.)

Here’s to finding yourself in first gear.

A Note from the Saddle: Full Throttle, Full Heart — the ultimate guidebook for men and women everywhere learning to ride — is now available on Amazon for download.

Download the Book now on Amazon https://amzn.eu/d/1m51MBQ

It’s filled with encouragement, wisdom, and stories to inspire your own two-wheeled journey. And because motorcycling is about more than just the road — it’s about connection, courage and community — £1 from every copy sold will go directly to the mental health and wellbeing charity, Make Your MARK, supporting bikers through acts of kindness, wellbeing hubs, and life-saving initiatives like Dave’s Defib. Ride with purpose.

Ride with heart. https://makeyourmark.charity

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Ride with purpose. Ride with heart. https://makeyourmark.charity