Finding my freedom

By Jessica Coleman
Staff Writer
To the absolute horror of everybody except me, I bought a motorcycle.

I grew up often hanging tightly onto my dad as we flew down the road on his Honda Shadow, and I remember the freedom I felt. My husband has one, too.

I am not someone who achieves inner peace easily. I am what one might call “high strung. This is a surprise to exactly no one who has spent more than 14 seconds in my presence. If you asked my doctor, he would say “I can’t give you that information because of doctor/patient confidentiality.”

But if he could give you that information he would tell you that I have problems sleeping because I wake up worrying at night. Even the tiniest of inconveniences is the end of the world at 3 a.m. I have problems focusing, and problems not assuming everything will come out as the worst case scenario.

In fact, I almost didn’t buy the bike because I was convinced I’d die being flung off of it, except that I remembered the carefree, nothing but us and the road feeling.

I found exactly the kind of bike I love. Its a 1980 Honda CM400T cafe racer, orange and black. Custom vintage!

More importantly, it is a reason for me to leave my phone at home, leave my problems at home, and just get out and not stress.

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