Today, I want to tell you about a dream. If you will indulge me, imagine a woman about 5’9″, average build, short, dark blonde hair, small facial features, late 30s. She’s wearing boot cut jeans, steel toed black boots, and a black leather jacket over a t shirt. Her eyes covered by dark shatterproof sunglasses. Now look down at her left hand. It grips a black strap attached to a full face motorcycle helmet. She is surrounded by tall trees, singing birds and the open road. Next to her is a big, shiny purple touring motorcycle, packed with a large travel bag on the back strapped over the sissy bar, that back rest reserved for passengers for most, but luggage for this woman.
Now watch as she throws her right leg over the bike and settles into the seat, all while strapping on the helmet. As she grips the clutch and hits the ignition switch with her left hand, she revs the engine with her right. Vroom! Vroom! And off she goes down the quiet mountain road, leaving a trail of dust and new friends waving goodbye.
For years, I had a dream. It was a dream of becoming a bold, independent, confident, don’t mess with me woman. Part of what that looked like to me was riding a motorcycle by myself cross country, able to handle anything that came my way. I had dreams of vroom, vroom, swooshing around bends in mountain roads, making friends and helping folks in small towns across the United States. Oh, the freedom!
Well, now let me tell you what actually happened! Back in 2002 or 03, I had a partner who was a motorcycle buff, finally giving me the space to admit my secret fantasy. I bought a Honda Shadow Spirit 750, purple with purple flames a medium sized bike that was a great fit for my long legs.
And I signed up for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation Basic Rider Course. As a studious perfectionist, I nailed the written test after classroom time. Then we went out to the riding range and were given tiny little Honda Rebels to practice actually riding.
This perfectionistic, overachiever then proceeded to freak out. One of the coaches noticed and pulled me to the side. In his brilliance, he offered me the possibility of returning to the next class to finish the course if I signed up for a private lesson. I agreed.
Continuing with his brilliance and wisdom, he matched me with Jennifer, a tiny 4’11” woman who grew up in a motorcycle family and rode one of the largest bikes around, a Honda Goldwing. Together one Saturday morning, Jennifer and I went through riding drills until I felt somewhat comfortable.
As we agreed, I then returned to the next class. And nailed the final driving test. As I looked back after the final braking, I watched the coaches fist pumping in celebration. I did it! I still proudly have the photo taken of me on my purple Shadow that day on my refrigerator.
After that, my partner and I began riding with a local riding club. One day as we were coming home from a ride around Lake Okeechobee, we drove through a construction zone and I took a slow turn through a sandy area, my bike slipping down into the dust. I wasn’t hurt and neither was the motorcycle, but both I and the bike were covered in dust! From that day forward, my riding name became Dusty.
My riding days were never really intense and they ended with the end of that relationship. I no longer have a great desire to travel across country, at least not on two wheels, but I realize I began my journey to becoming that bold, independent, confident, don’t mess with me woman riding. Or perhaps, better said, revealing that which was already in me.
My biker days taught me a few things:
1. Being bold, independent, confident is a process.
2. We can do a lot more with support than we can if we are
3. There is a huge rush that comes with success when you’ve struggled
4. Simply showing up as we are, authentically and vulnerably, is
really what makes a difference in the world, not being the lone
ranger super hero who never stays still.
5. I am proud to be Dusty, the one who can fall and still get up to move
forward, taking with her the growth she discovered through falling. THAT
is what makes me bold!
6. A good mentor/coach/therapist can make the difference
between success and giving up.
My dream of a being a bold, independent, confident, don’t mess with me
woman lives on and to the best of my ability, I live it every day. How
And if you are ready to take the next quantum leap in your journey and
recognize there is something getting in your way, reach out for a complimentary call with me today! Don’t wait to make your dreams come true!