Full Throttle, Full Heart: 5 Life Lessons I Learned from My Motorcycle

What two wheels taught me about fear, courage, and showing up for my own life

I didn’t grow up around bikes.

I didn’t dream of racing or fixing engines, well, that’s a lie. I wanted to be like my Dad. This picture you see here is of my Dad. Although a highly accomplished racing driver during the Sixties, he gave me my love of the race track and also, more importantly, my love of motorcycles.

Yet despite my upbringing with the smell of two stroke and fibre glass and Karts, I came to motorcycling late in life — drawn to it not by confidence, but by curiosity which came from watching my Dad on 4 wheels and then on 2.

And if I’m being honest, my brain has always been gnawed by a question I could never shake: Can I do that?

The first time I sat on a bike, fear sat right there with me in my thighs. It held my hand, squeezed my lungs tightly so I couldn’t breathe and whispered all the reasons I shouldn’t even try. But I tried anyway.

I thought I was learning how to ride a motorcycle at 51. What I didn’t know was that I was learning how to live. Again. After a very very dark time. (But, that might be for another post, maybe.)

But, what I have to share with you today, are the five life lessons my bike has taught me over the last year of my life — lessons I didn’t expect, but that I now carry with me every time I twist the throttle and every time I face something that scares me.

1. You Don’t Have to Feel Ready to Begin

Spoiler: You probably never will. But that’s ok.

I wasted so much time waiting to feel “ready.” That was probably another reason for leaving it until I was in my fifties.

I was somehow waiting until I was braver — ha! Waiting until I was stronger — yeah right — all that amount of swimming and mountain bike riding was never going to turn me into Tessa Sanderson. Waiting until the fear magically left my body — where’s my fairy godmother?

But riding — like life — doesn’t wait for perfect timing — decades often teach you that. The only thing that moves you forward is showing up and being there — like that Peter Sellers film. Nervous, unsure, stepping out into an unknown world — but there and ever present.

The first time I rolled on the throttle and felt the bike respond — well, leap forward, I realised something important: readiness isn’t a feeling. It’s a decision you make.

Insight: Don’t wait to feel ready. Start wobbly. Begin anyway. The courage comes in the doing, not in the thinking about it and waiting for a miracle.

2. Fear Isn’t the Enemy — It’s the Compass

For a long time, I saw my fear as proof that I didn’t belong on a bike, so I chose 4 wheels instead. I thought real riders were fearless and somehow ready to take whatever the road threw at them.

I know better now.

Fear is data. Fear tells me where I need to pay attention and when to focus. Fear sharpens my focus when I’m approaching a tricky bend or a skill I haven’t yet mastered. Fear doesn’t define me — it keeps me alive and still here.

The key is learning to listen to it without letting it take the bars away from you.

Advice: When fear shows up, ask: Is this fear keeping me safe, or keeping me small? Then adjust yourself accordingly.

3. Progress Is Measured in Inches, Not Miles

Some days, victory looks like nailing a perfect corner. But how any times do you actually do that?

Other days, victory looks like showing up for training when all I want to do is hide under the duvet and listen to my OMD records.

Motorcycling taught me to celebrate the small wins — the smooth gear change, the steady stop at a junction, the moment my breathing stayed calm through a wobble at the traffic lights. I still haven’t got to grips with keeping my foot on the rear brake when I stop.

Those inches add up to miles. But only if you keep going — watch the clock. It does move — it never goes backwards.

Suggestion: Keep a “tiny victories” journal. Write down one thing that went right after every ride. Revisit it when doubt creeps in. You’ll thank me for it.

4. Lean In, Don’t Back Off

There’s a moment in every corner where the instinct is to freeze up, to roll off the throttle, to pull away from the lean. You spend your time looking at the road right in front of you and not the exit of the corner itself. Look at where you want to go, not where you don’t.

But the bike needs you to lean in. It does.

I learned that the hard way — target-fixating, stiff-arming, fighting the curve and letting ice cover my top half. And I learned the freedom that comes when you trust the process enough to lean and to trust the bike. After all, you’re in control of it and the outcome.

Life is like that too. The hard conversations, the scary decisions, the places where you feel off-balance — that’s where leaning in matters most. That’s where you move forward.

Reflection: The ride (and your life) gets smoother when you stop resisting the curve and commit to the turn. You’ll surprise yourself. Trust me.

5. You Are Always Allowed to Start Again

Yeah, so what? I’ve dropped the bike more than once. I’ve stalled at traffic lights. I’ve blubbed inside my helmet more than once. And?

Every single time, I’ve been allowed to try again, because I said so.

There is such quiet power in that simple truth: you are allowed to get back up. You are allowed to be a beginner as many times as you need, even if it takes years.

Your worth isn’t measured by flawless rides. It’s measured by the fact that you keep showing up. You’re at the bike meet. You got there. You were seen.

Encouragement: Give yourself permission to be messy. Be new. Be learning. And keep going.

This Is What Full Throttle, Full Heart Really Means

It’s not about speed. Heck no. It’s never about speed. Remember that.It’s not about perfect technique. You’ll do the perfect action when no one is even looking.

It’s about showing up with your whole self — fear, hope, doubt, joy — all of it. The whole damn lot.

It’s about choosing courage over comfort. It’s about believing that you belong here, exactly as you are.

These lessons aren’t just for the saddle. They’re for every place in your life where you’re holding your breath, waiting to be “enough” before you begin.

I wrote Full Throttle Full Heart because I needed this reminder myself. And I wanted to offer it to anyone else who might be standing at the edge of something bold, wondering if they’re brave enough.

You don’t have to be fearless. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be willing.

And that’s more than enough.

🧡 Michelle Hatcher Author of Full Throttle Full Heart (available now on Amazon)£1 from every book sold goes directly to support Make Your Mark — helping others find their freedom and confidence through motorcycling.

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