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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!