There's an old saying often parroted by members of the motorcycling community that goes, "You never see a motorcycle parked outside of a psychiatrist's office." Horseshit. My various bikes were parked outside my shrink's office almost every day in the seven years I spent on the couch. I mean, not in the depths of Michigan Januaries or anything, but you get the point. 

While I think you can tell what I think about that bikes/psychiatrist office saying by my tone above, the fact is that riding and wrenching on my bikes did help me through a lot. It was part of a whole thing—which also included five days a week on the couch and a couple different medications—prescribed by my therapist. I was legit prescribed motorcycle-based self care. Neat, eh? 

At this point, in TYooL 2019, I've been out of therapy longer than I was in it. I still practice a lot of the lessons I learned from my shrink, and not only am I better for it but my family is, too. Hell, I wouldn't be here talking to you right now if it wasn't for calling that number on the back of my healthcare card. Lucky you.

So, why am I bringing this up today? Well, today started out as a bad day. No reason, really, just bad. About an hour in, I knew I wasn't going to be worth a damn if I didn't step away for some fresh air and perspective. Know what I did? I went and cleaned my garage. No, seriously. I did chores to make myself feel better. Well, first I took part in some retail therapy and bought some Honda parts. I mean, what's the good of all this internet publishing money I'm rolling in if I can't buy fresh parts for crappy old bikes?

I spent a good 90-ish minutes sweeping, organizing, and putting things back where they belong while monitoring the goings-on here. I moved the bikes around a bit and even started tearing down a CB500K I recently got (which you'll all see presently). It was very therapeutic. Meditative, even. It helped me clear my mind and focus on the rest of the workday in a way that, say, another press full of coffee wouldn't have. 

What about you? Despite it being frustrating sometimes, do you find peace of mind in your shop? Are you able to clear out mental cobwebs and refocus with a wrench in your hand? I know this is a rambling piece and I have a pretty unique situation here, so if it's not entirely your cup of tea I apologize. If it is your cup of tea, tell me about your motorcycle-related coping mechanisms.

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