Throttle Therapy




I’m starting to regret my commitment to post every day about my journey to “write myself alive”.

If I’m going to be honest (and that is what I committed to at the beginning of this process) the Write Yourself Alive campaign has taken everything I had to give. I’m just about half way through and really wanting to quit.

Day 13 I lived the prompt. 

I took a walk on the wild side and bought a Harley, but the prompts for days 14 and 15 weren’t so easy. When the rubber met the road I literally got on my bike and spent the last two days trying to outride the answers to those next two questions. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t outride them.

I couldn’t outrun them. 

They’re still there, like a sliver in my mind, and I don’t know how to answer. I don’t know what to write anymore, because in order to answer I would have to get even more real than I have already. Even more transparent.

I already feel like I’m see-through. 

At this point I’m a couple days behind. It would be easier to just skip those particular questions and start with Day 16’s prompt, but interestingly enough this very post is already answering day 16’s question:

“Recall a recent experience that has made you feel vulnerable.”

Well that’s easy. Questions like this make me feel vulnerable: “How and when did life (or people) take your crayons away?” (Day 14)

Or this one:

“What is one thing/aspect/person you are still holding onto that directly or indirectly interferes with your ability to create more? What vampires (things, people, situations) empty you and leave your heart in red numbers?” (Day 15)

I don’t think I can answer these questions for you.

Hell, I can barely answer them for myself.

At least not today. And not in a blog post. It might take an entire memoir. One I’m not sure you’d be willing to read, and one I don’t think I’m ready to write.

They say that you’ll never see a motorcycle parked outside a psychiatrist’s office, and I find that amusing, because even before I got the Harley, I had traded in my therapist for a throttle. My first bike was a Honda Rebel. Really fun, super stable, easy to ride. Great for around town and surface streets, but nothing I could take on the bigger highways or use to climb mountain passes.

The Harley came at a pivotal time. I needed something bigger, with more power, that could take mje higher, deeper, farther, faster. Something I could sit on for the long journeys ahead, that could carry me anywhere I needed to go.

There are things that happen on the open road that lift your spirit and cleanse your soul. Questions vibrate until you can’t hear them anymore, and life becomes distilled into a very simple equation.

I will need to log a few more miles before I’ll be ready to explain more, but one thing is for sure: If I were Robert Frost, my horse would be a Harley…

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.”

About the author

Lynda Meyers

Lynda Meyers is the award-winning author of Letters From The Ledge and Finn Again


  • I have read a million posts inspired by these very lines but everytime they prove to be even more inspiring. You cannot answer all the arising questions of life but there is one thing you can do is live for the moment long enough so that one day you may have the will to surpass even the toughest demands.

Subscribe to My Newsletter

Only Interested In The Motorcycle Newsletter?