A way to vent about things going on in your life, through varying mediums. Poetry, art, acting. It really doesn't matter. All function for the same purpose; to relieve that growing tension between your eyes and the heat that bubbles inside your blood. It's a gods-send, really, because if there were no such thing as "venting," or "therapy," most people would have spontaneously combusted a long time ago.

There is almost a full moon tonight. Riding home from Rockport, I look down as I cross the Harbor Bridge to see the orb's reflection in the ocean's blue water. Then I look up and see the lights of the city expanding across the horizon. Breathing in the night air, I sigh -- almost home, almost home. A feeling of peace fills my soul.

However much tension I may struggle with daily, it never fails to dissipate from my body as I ride down the highway. No therapist can give me the same release from my burdens or match the sense of peace I derive from one hour on my Harley. As the engine roars beneath me, I realize my own strength and power.

I decide to cross through downtown before heading home. Rock and roll music emanates from one of bars. As I pull to a stop at one of the lights, a shiny, black SUV pulls up next to me. The driver grins at me, then his passenger pops her head out of the window, camera in hand, asking to take my picture. I pose for her with a smile.

As I head home for the night, I laugh to myself -- who would have thought this conservative grandma would or could morph into a "rock star" biker!

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