Mastering the Moment: What a Honda CBF 600cc Taught Me About Life
- Michelle Hatcher
- Jun 8
- 6 min read
Finding peace and purpose in every curve — how Mod 1 training on a Honda 600cc with Abbey Riders, combined with the ethos of Full Throttle Full Heart, Ride for Change, and Motorbiker Acts of Random Kindness, teaches us to trust ourselves, be kind, and live fully in the moment.
The morning June sun had barely nudged its way over the rolling hills of the Vale of White Horse outside Swindon when I mounted a Honda 600cc with Abbey Riders of Swindon.
My stomach felt like a high-revving engine — anticipatory, eager, and more than a little anxious but certainly not as bad as the last time I rode out with the training school.
I knew this Mod 1 training session would test not only my ability to balance and corner, but also the whispering doubts in my mind. I had to be better than I had been before. I had to push myself just a little bit further past my comfort zone.
Kurt, our trainer, radiated calm as usual and always full of insights. As he guided me and my riding pal for the morning through slow-speed manoeuvres and hill starts, I strained to keep my gaze on the horizon making sure that Kurt didn’t become a dot in the distance in front of me.
But halfway through, Kurt’s voice cut through the roar of my thoughts: “You’re looking too far ahead. You’re braking at the last minute, trying to micromanage the bike instead of trusting yourself.”
At first, I sort of bristled. Looking too far ahead? Wasn’t that responsible? My mind raced: Have I scanned every hazard? What if a car suddenly pulls out? But Kurt’s words reminded me as I watched him sweep effortlessly around ever corner: “When you fixate on what might be coming around the corner, you forget that you’re in control right here, right now.”
It was as if he had handed me a mirror — one reflecting not just my riding technique, but my life. In Full Throttle Full Heart, I explore how motorcycling helped me quiet the endless chatter in my head. Here, astride a 600cc, I felt that echo again: we often slam on our mental brakes because we fear every unknown ahead. But on a bike — and in life — we gain mastery by balancing ourselves in the present.
The Lesson in the Lean
As I approached a gentle right-hander, Kurt’s words echoed: “Look where you want to go, not at the roadside weeds you’re trying to avoid.” My instinct screamed to grab the front brake hard and tighten my shoulders. Instead, I exhaled, leaned into the slow curve, and let the Honda flow beneath me, eased off the clutch and gave the throttle a bit more. In that instant, the roar in my helmet quieted, replaced by the rhythmic hum of the engine.
My mind stilled. There were no “what-ifs,” only the turn unfolding beneath my tires. I realised how often, off the bike, I let imagined futures hijack my present. I braked too late perhaps — emotionally and mentally — because I expected the worst — always — there becomes a panic. But when, on a couple of occasions during that ride, I trusted the bike’s balance and my own instincts, it responded, carrying me safely through.
Braking Late, Living Early
Later, we crested a narrow country lane that curved out of sight. I wanted my knee to brush the tarmac as I leaned (but no, I was probably sitting dead straight and upright,) but at the apex, doubt crept in: Brake hard, just in case. Kurt’s voice resonated: “Brake early, choose your gear, brake smooth, then trust the bike.”
I eased off the throttle, applied gentle pressure to the brakes, and felt the bike’s confidence beneath me.
A wave of warmth washed over me — a realisation that while I can’t control every twist or turn in life, I can choose how I respond. When we learn to “brake early and smooth,” we create space to trust — in ourselves, our training, and whatever lies ahead.
This lesson, which I also share in Full Throttle Full Heart, extends beyond two wheels. We often slam on our emotional brakes — halting new pursuits, ending situations prematurely, or refusing opportunities — because we fear being unprepared. But like on the bike, braking smoothly gives us control without sacrificing momentum.
Riding for Change & Acts of Random Kindness
After our session, I reflected on how motorcycling offers a sanctuary — a way to quiet the turbulence in our heads. Through Make Your MARK and its “Motorbiker Acts of Random Kindness,” riders channel that clarity into community action. Whether it’s delivering groceries to life-long neighbours, escorting teens to a prom, or organising fundraising ride-outs for local projects, we have the ability to demonstrate that beneath our helmets beat hearts dedicated to making a difference.
This spirit underpins the “Ride for Change” petition — calling on policymakers to improve road safety, expand mental health resources for riders, and recognise the therapeutic power of motorcycling. By signing, you’re not just supporting better infrastructure; you’re affirming that bikers aren’t nuisances, but compassionate individuals committed to positive impact.
In Full Throttle Full Heart, I recount how a single ride transformed my outlook on anxiety. On that journey, I discovered that kindness — to myself and others — is the lubricant that keeps life’s gears turning smoothly. We’re often our own harshest critics, applying mental brakes long before we reach any real danger.
But on the bike, and in life, we deserve that same grace we extend to others. Don’t be too hard on yourself; trust your inner rider and lean into the journey.
Quieting the Noise, Embracing the Now
By the time we returned to Abbey Riders’ parking area, sweat glistened under my helmet, and I felt a renewed sense of purpose. There was a final insight which lingered: “Riding teaches you to master the noise in your head. When you lean into the moment, that chatter fades, and you just are.”
In the days that will follow from yesterday, I will replay that epiphany. The incessant dialogue of “what ifs” receded. Not gone, but softened — like a distant engine idle. Each time I saddle up, I will focus not on distant horizons, but on the curve directly beneath my tires, the pressure in my gloves, and the gentle growl of the engine. In that focus, I will continue to find peace.
Kindness on Two Wheels, Kindness in Life
My ride with Abbey Riders reminds me: life, like riding, is about balance — between planning for tomorrow and owning this moment. Through Make Your MARK’s Motorbiker Acts of Random Kindness, we extend that balance outward: raising awareness for mental health. We’re not just a rumble on the road; we’re trustees, volunteers, and petition-signers for a safer, kinder world.
So when you face a bend in your own life — be it career uncertainty, personal doubt, or simply the fear of the unknown — remember Kurt’s advice: look where you want to go, brake early and smooth, and trust yourself. Allow your heartbeats to sync with your breath. Release the apprehension of what lies beyond the corner, and lean into the present.
And above all — be kind to yourself. If you hesitate, treat that hesitation as a gentle nudge, not a condemnation. After all, mastery isn’t about perfection; it’s about showing up, leaning in, and moving forward with compassion — toward others and toward ourselves.
Riding has taught me to master the moment; now, I carry that lesson off the rumbling tarmac and into every corner of life. We ride full throttle, with full hearts — embracing each twist, each lean, and each chance to make our world a little kinder.
Ride Safe.
If you’ve felt the hum of the engine in your soul and want to keep this journey alive — learning more about mental health, community rides, and Motorbiker Acts of Random Kindness — join our tribe of like-minded riders.
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