I’m going to say something that might sound dramatic: motorcycling probably saved my mental health during one of the worst periods of my life.
Not literally—I wasn’t riding at the time. But obsessing over the Niken, researching bikes, watching videos, building this site? That gave me something to focus on when everything else felt like it was falling apart.
So yeah, I’m biased. But the research backs this up: 90% of motorcyclists say riding helps their mental health. And 78% recommend it to people struggling with mental health issues.
Let’s talk about why—and be honest about when it doesn’t help.
The Focus Required Is the Point
Riding a motorcycle demands your full attention. You can’t half-ass it. You can’t scroll your phone. You can’t mentally replay that argument from three days ago.
You’re monitoring traffic, road conditions, your speed, your line through the corner, that car that might not see you. Your brain has no bandwidth left for anxiety spirals or rumination.
Psychologists call this the “flow state”—complete immersion in the present moment. Motorcyclists call it “finally shutting up the noise in my head.”
It’s not meditation. It’s high-stakes focus that forces you into the present. And for people whose default mode is overthinking (hi), that’s therapeutic.
Does riding force you into the present in ways other activities don’t?
The Physical Component Matters
Controlling a motorcycle is physical work. Core strength. Arms. Legs. Constant micro-adjustments.
This triggers endorphin release—the same brain chemistry you get from exercise. Studies show riders experience a 25% drop in stress hormones during rides, plus increased heart rate similar to light cardio.
You’re not just sitting there. You’re working. And your brain rewards you for it.
Freedom From the Daily Grind
There’s something about being on a bike—exposed to the elements, in control of this machine, going somewhere—that feels like freedom.
Not metaphorical freedom. Actual, physical freedom from:
- Your desk
- Your phone
- Your responsibilities (temporarily)
- Your usual environment
- Your stuck thoughts
You can’t bring your problems with you on a bike. They’re still there when you get home, but for an hour or two, they’re not in the passenger seat.
What are you trying to escape when you ride—or what do you wish you could escape?
The Community (When You Want It)
The motorcycling community can be supportive. Genuinely supportive.
Group rides, clubs, events—there’s a natural camaraderie among riders. Shared passion, mutual respect, instant conversation starter. For people struggling with isolation or social anxiety, this can be valuable.
But here’s the thing: you don’t need the community to benefit from riding. Solo rides work just as well. Maybe better, if you’re like me and prefer solitude.
The community is there if you want it. It’s not mandatory.
Do you ride solo, or is the community part of why you ride?
When Riding Doesn’t Help
Let’s be honest about this:
If you can’t ride for an extended period (injury, winter, financial reasons), the absence can make things worse. During UK lockdown, there was a documented rise in suicides among motorcyclists who couldn’t ride.
After an accident, riders often face PTSD, anxiety, depression. The thing that helped your mental health becomes a source of trauma. (There are support organizations for this—Mental Health Motorbike in the UK is one.)
If you’re using riding to avoid dealing with problems, you’re just postponing things. Riding can give you space to think clearly, but it’s not a substitute for actually addressing what’s wrong.
Have you ever struggled with not being able to ride when you needed it most?
Resources That Actually Exist
If you’re struggling:
Mental Health Motorbike (UK): National charity supporting bikers’ mental health. Over 1,000 members, mental health first aiders, peer support.
DocBike (UK): Partners with Mental Health Motorbike. Provides medical support and accident-avoidance training.
Therapy options: CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) and EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) have been shown to help riders dealing with trauma or anxiety.
Support groups: There are support groups for accident survivors and people dealing with riding-related PTSD.
I’m not affiliated with any of these. Just pointing out they exist.
My Take
I haven’t ridden in years. Financial constraints, life circumstances, living in Japan without easy access to the bikes I want. But researching motorcycles, building this site, keeping the dream alive—that’s been therapeutic.
The actual riding would probably be even better.
There’s something about the focus, the physical engagement, the sense of control, the freedom—it addresses things that traditional “relaxation” doesn’t touch.
But it’s not magic. It’s one tool among many. And it comes with risks (obviously—motorcycles are dangerous). The mental health benefits only work if you’re riding safely, with proper training, respecting the machine and the road.
I offer some thoughts on the subject of mental health over at OldDogZeroTricks.com, with my post How Do You Know You Are Mentally Healthy?
What role does motorcycling play in your mental health?
For What It’s Worth
If you’re considering getting into motorcycling for mental health reasons, here’s my advice:
- Get proper training. Anxiety about safety will cancel out any benefits.
- Don’t ride to escape problems. Ride to clear your head so you can address problems.
- Start small. You don’t need a literbike. You need something that makes you want to ride.
- Be honest about limitations. If weather, finances, or circumstances prevent riding, have backup coping strategies.
- Connect with others if it helps. But don’t feel obligated.
Motorcycling has therapeutic benefits. Real ones. But it’s not therapy. If you’re struggling, talk to someone qualified. Riding can support your mental health—it can’t replace proper care.
Does riding help your mental health? Has it made things better, worse, or more complicated?
A Story Worth Watching
44Teeth interviewed John “Boothy” McGuinness about his recovery after his Isle of Man TT crash. It’s honest, raw, and shows both the trauma and the healing that motorcycling can involve.
And yes—he got back on a bike.
