Wobble, Don’t Quit: How to Handle Setbacks on Your Learning Journey

Michelle Hatcher
Apr 28
6 min read

Updated: May 6

I dropped my bike. Again.

There, I said it.

Coming into my drive way on a grey afternoon after a lovely long ride, with my heart in my throat and my gloves soaked through with nervous sweat, I came round the corner, forgot that there was a sheer drop on my right hand side at the side of where the road turns into my drive, panicked, lost my balance, put my right foot down to absolutely no ground at all and… boom. Down she went. My beloved Ninja 125cc, Black, sleek, and previously untouched by shameful scuffs — until that afternoon.

I stood beside her, stunned. Not hurt, not angry — just gutted. Gutted because I thought I was past all that — 3 months in to riding pretty confidently. I thought I’d cracked it. I thought I was over the stage where I’d blub behind my visor. I wasn’t. I was very much still learning. And that’s exactly the point.

Damn. Then I had to do the walk of shame to a local neighbour, knock on the door quietly and ask the chap inside to come and help me lift the bike up.

Embarrassed? Hell yes.

The Messy, Glorious Truth About Learning to Ride

No one tells you this when you start riding in your 50s: you’ll go through more emotional ups and downs than an 80's teenage soap opera. You’ll go from “Oh yeah, I’ve got this!” to “What the **** was I thinking?” in the time it takes to fumble a gear shift, wobble and yes, the inevitable drop.

But here’s the bigger truth — setbacks don’t mean you’re not meant to ride. They mean you’re becoming a rider and joining a long list of people before you who have yes, dropped it.

I didn’t grow up riding bikes. My inspiration was my Dad, who adored motorcycles and left behind a trail of blue two-stroke smoke and stories of delivering Post Office telegrams to the likes of Peter Sellers back in the 60’s. I always wondered what it felt like to be that free — to cut through countryside with nothing but an engine beneath you and the world ahead of you.

When I hit 51— single, grown up child, alone, exhausted, a little broken — I finally found the courage to try.

What a Dropped Bike Teaches You

You know, it’s never just about the bike. It’s about the belief you have in yourself, and how easy it is to let that belief tear a big gaping crack in two when something goes wrong.

When you drop your bike, or fail your Mod 1 on something small, or freeze at a roundabout while white vans queue too closely behind you — your brain does what it was conditioned to do:

“You’re too old for this.”
“You should’ve started in your 20s.”
“You’ll never pass.”
“You look ridiculous.”

But I want you to hear me clearly: none of that is true — really it isn’t. Those are echoes of irrational fear, not hard facts. And they do not belong in your helmet.

Here’s what is true:

Every single biker you admire has dropped a bike. Yes, even Barry Sheen (and yes, my biker hubby whom I admire the most on this planet.)
Most riders failed at least one part of their test. Some will sail through, most will have more than one crack at it before they pass.
Confidence doesn’t come before experience — it comes because of it — there is no easy route — no one jumps ahead of everyone else.

A Practical Guide for Setbacks (With Love and a Bit of Sass)

1. If You Drop the Bike…

Pick it up. Assess it. Apologise to him/her if you must (I always do). And then take a moment. Sit. Breathe. Laugh if you can. Cry if you need to, but then get back on it.

Then ask: What happened? Was it clutch? Panic? Gravel? Learn from it. Give it a moment to sit in your mind. You’ll be amazed how clarity follows chaos, everytime if you give it a moment.

2. If You Fail a Test…

You know one thing? It’s actually not the end of the world. You can do it again and again and funny enough, then pass. It’s not even the end of the road — it’s just a speed bump that needed to be got over. Failing a Mod 1 or Mod 2 does not mean you’re not capable. It means you’re still in training and you need a little more time. The real best riders are the ones who get back up, not the ones who breeze through everything. They are the ones that learn.

(Also — many of us are rebooking straight after failing. Because we’re stubborn like that and we don’t give up.)

3. If Your Confidence is Dented…

Welcome to the club, my friend. Confidence isn’t static. It moves. It is fluid. It wobbles. But just like your first U-turn, the wobble doesn’t mean you’re going to fall, it just means you haven’t found your balance point, but it’s there and you probably aren’t far off it.

So, if you can quickly, get back on. Ride somewhere easy and a place you know. Reconnect with the feeling, not the pressure. Ride to the shop. Ride around the block. Feel the rumble of the engine under you and remember — it’s still there. You’re still there and everything is going to be ok, because it will. Ok?

Emotional Growth: The Hidden Skill

I will let you into a little secret: learning to ride has taught me far more than how to navigate a junction. It’s taught me:

Resilience — and that will get you far.

Patience — because you need to to find the space to learn.

Self-kindness — because we can’t be our worst enemy all the time. I have welled up more in my helmet this year than in a decade — but every pounding headache has been worth the wind on my face and the quiet joy of riding along a country lane.

Some days, riding has been my only therapy. I have put down a drink and ridden instead. I have shut my laptop on work before blowing a gasket and ridden instead. I have put my phone down before responding to a ridicule and ridden instead.

And that’s why I’m writing Full Throttle Full Heart — to give every man, woman and soul who’s ever doubted themselves the courage to feel the fear, embrace the setbacks, and ride anyway.

Final Thoughts From a Proud Rider Who Can Still Wobble With The Best of Them

You will wobble. You will stall. You will blub. You will curse.

You will also beam behind your visor. You will glide through corners you once feared and felt more wooden than a bad actor. You will learn to listen to your gut, trust your throttle, trust your clutch control, and believe in your strength.

Because, you’re not failing. You’re becoming.

And every mile — every painfully tiny, tentative, long exhausting, trembling mile — is rewriting the story of who you are.

So next time you drop your bike, or question your worth, I want you to remember this:

Wobble. But don’t quit.

I didn’t. And now? Yeah, I guess I’m learning to fly.

💬 If this resonated with you, hit “👏” and leave a comment. I’d love to hear your story. And don’t forget to subscribe to Full Throttle Half Century for more honest, raw, sometimes funny and powerful tales from the road.

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

📚 Full Throttle Full Heart is coming soon. And £1 from every book sold will go to Make Your MARK, a beautiful mental health charity supporting bikers and building wellbeing hubs across the UK.