Ride It Out: Why Motorcycling Might Just Save Your Sanity (Like It Did Mine)

This Mental Health Awareness Week, a plea from the saddle of a 125cc Ninja Motorcyclist

I never thought I’d be that person. The one strapping on a crash helmet at 51, hands shaking, heart pounding, feet barely reaching the floor on a tiny-but-mighty Kawasaki Ninja 125. I wasn’t chasing speed. I wasn’t trying to look cool. I was just trying to feel something again that had been killed off not long before.

I had been through a mental storm that left me broken, greyed-out, and distant from myself.

Life had become a series of ticking clocks and empty tasks alone in my house. I felt completely invisible, voiceless, and suffocated by everything I used to love.

I spent days, weeks not speaking to another soul. Just working from home quietly watching the seasons come and go, waiting for the days to end so I could tick off another day so that another one would begin. My mental health — though I wore it well — was hanging on by the threads found in an empty bottle.

And then came my first motorcycle — a 125cc Ninja bike that changed everything.

When I first rode it, it was far from glamorous. I stalled three times pulling out of my own street. I was often drenched in sweaty hair under my helmet, overwhelmed by fear.

But in those weeks that passed going from first gear to second and then back down again, trying to grasp clutch control something, somehow… shifted. It was like every ounce of adrenaline suddenly carved out space where the anxiety had taken root. My world narrowed to the road, my focus became sharper.

For the first time in my life, I felt alive and more importantly, I wanted to be alive.

Motorcycling isn’t just riding. It’s therapy with wheels.

There’s something unspoken and unashamedly sacred about two wheels and an open road. Ask any rider — novice or seasoned — and you’ll hear the same words come up: freedom, escape, clarity, focus, purpose. We know the story. We know what riding does and what it replaces when things get lost in our lives.

When you ride, there is no room for chaos — there can’t be. There is only the present moment. Tank between your thighs, hands on bars, twisting the throttle, navigating the corners of life.

And for those of us navigating grief, trauma, anxiety or depression, that present moment is often the only peace we can find.

Sometimes you need a few bends to straighten out your head.

This week is Mental Health Awareness Week in the UK. I want to use this moment to speak directly to anyone — rider or not — who is silently suffering. You don’t have to be “strong” in the traditional sense. You don’t need to have it all figured out. But you do deserve a lifeline. Motorcycling became mine. It has become this for so many others. It can do the same for you too.

Enter: Make Your MARK

I want to tell you about an extraordinary grassroots charity that’s doing the work I wish had existed for me years ago. It’s called Make Your MARK. This motorcycle mental health charity promotes something beautifully simple: Motorbike Acts of Random Kindness.

They don’t just raise awareness. They create hubs at cafés across the country where bikers can just be — talk, listen, decompress. They offer Mental Health First Aider training to members for free. They understand that the biker community is filled with people holding heavy stories — who’ve ridden through storms, both literal and emotional.

And now, they’ve launched the Bike n Brew Passport — a soul-filling, cuppa-fuelled journey through over 90 cafés across Wales, the Midlands, the Cotswolds and the South West. For just £10, riders can visit cafés, collect stamps, sip brews, and connect with others.

It’s not just a ride. It’s a reason. It’s healing on two wheels, shared between strangers who feel like family by the end of a mug. We build a community and each nod says, ‘I see you, friend.’

My Story, Your Story

I’m far from a hero. I’m just someone who didn’t want to disappear just yet. I am someone who found strength in the rev of a little engine. Who faced panic at every roundabout, and but doesn’t anymore. Who blubbed the first time I merged onto a dual carriageway and lived to tell the tale. I live to tell all tales. With my biker hubby by my side at traffic lights or in my mirror. I am free and happy.

And now I write for others. I created Full Throttle Half Century, a blog for people like me and you. I published Full Throttle Full Heart, a heartfelt guidebook, to be referred to in times of giving up, yes — but more importantly, a love letter to every person who ever believed they were too old, too anxious, too late.

You’re not.

To the Motorists

This is for you too. Because as bikers, we ride among you. And we need you to look. Really look. May is Motorcycle Awareness Month, and yet so many of us feel like invisible targets. Close passes, careless overtakes, distracted glances — we see them all. Some don’t live to tell the tale.

Please give us space. Please give us respect. We’re not reckless. We’re riding for our lives — in more ways than one.

A Final Thought

If you’ve ever felt the weight of your own mind crushing your joy, I see you. If you’ve ever stared at a helmet and doubted yourself, I was you. And if you’ve ever wanted to ride, but felt too broken, too unsure, too tired… I promise, the bike will wait. And when you’re ready, the ride might just save you.

This week, let’s talk about mental health. Let’s ride for it.

And if you can, support the work of Make Your MARK. Every penny helps put defibs in biker cafés, trains mental health responders, and builds real, lasting community.

You’re never too old. Never too far gone. And never alone.

Release the clutch. Quiet the noise. And ride into the person you were always meant to be.

Michelle Hatcher is the author of Full Throttle Full Heart — now available in paperback on Amazon. Get your copy here.

£1 from every book goes to Make Your MARK charity.

Thank you