I am a solo motorcyclist. Before we had our young son, my wife and I always rode together. I own a large and comfortable Honda Gold Wing, which is perfect for riding with a passenger. However, now that we have an infant, that setup no longer works. So, I ride alone.
I do not belong to any biker clubs or social circles. The only exception is training sessions. I have taken many lessons on handling heavy motorcycles, spending weekends with a coach. There, on the practice range, a true community exists, united by honing specific maneuvers. But when it comes to trips, I am on my own.
Recently, however, my friends and I tried an interesting format. We all went to North Carolina to celebrate a birthday and rented a large estate in the mountains. My friends traveled by car, while I rented a motorcycle. For three days, we visited tourist sites together, with me on my bike and them in their cars.
There is a unique vibe to this, but my schedule rarely allows me to set aside several consecutive days for a long motorcycle journey. Nevertheless, I have a dream: to ride coast to coast, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. I realized that few of my friends are "hardcore" motorcyclists capable of completing such a long journey. Therefore, I plan to organize a combined trip in the spring. The idea is to ride from Florida to Washington State when it is not yet too hot in the south but already warm enough in the north. It will be a mixed group: some on motorcycles, some in cars. Everyone will choose what makes them comfortable.
The Illusion of Experience
While learning to ride, I discovered something remarkable that closely parallels business. In my training group, there were often people who had been riding for 20 or 30 years. I was a novice, whose only prior experience was riding as a child.
As I began practicing, I noticed that many of these "veterans" actually did not know how to handle their bikes. They knew how to ride in a straight line. But as soon as they needed to maneuver, pull away, or stop, their feet would drag on the ground. They could not lean into a turn properly and did not know the limits of their motorcycles: the critical lean angle, braking distance, or how the bike behaves in an emergency.
This is very similar to many business owners. An entrepreneur builds a company, places it within certain boundaries, and clings to them. They, too, are "riding in a straight line." They do not master the tools of people management just as they do not master their motorcycle—they do not feel its limits. As soon as an obstacle appears, they are unable to maneuver.
The Price of Mastery
I am often asked if I have ever fallen off my motorcycle. Yes, during training, I have gone over the handlebars and fallen on my side many times. This is perfectly normal because, in training, you test your limits. You understand what you can and cannot do, gradually expanding those limits.
If you only ride to the nearest coffee shop or store, you will never feel this. Mastery is built only on the practice range by learning new techniques. Business works exactly the same way. You cannot grow by doing the same thing over and over. Mastery comes through acquiring new tools, attempting to implement them, making mistakes, gaining insight, realization, and effort. This is the only way expansion happens.
The "Valley of Death" and the Comfort Zone
In America, I observe a phenomenon I call the "valley of death." Many entrepreneurs start a business, reach a certain income level, enter a comfort zone, and continue "coasting" there for the rest of their lives. Their business does not grow.
But a huge threat hides here. If an obstacle suddenly appears in that comfort zone, just like it might for a motorcyclist, they will lack the skill to avoid a collision. They do not know how to quickly pivot or rebuild their business.
I have often seen a motorcyclist with 20 years of experience fall in a simple, even foolish, situation. They get injured simply because they lacked the skill to react to change. It is the same in business: you can do the same thing for 20 years, but as soon as the market shifts or a new competitor emerges, you crash into a wall because you were not prepared to maneuver.