Hi, I'm Chris.
I'm an angry, perimenopausal, 48-year-old biker chick.
Probably not the image most people picture when they hear the phrase "biker chick". Then again, much like life itself, reality has a habit of ignoring stereotypes.
People often assume motorcycling is all about the bikes.
They're wrong.
The motorcycles are wonderful, of course, but the most valuable thing I've gained from riding isn't a machine at all.
It's the people.
The friends I've made through motorcycling have carried me through some of the hardest moments of my life. They've celebrated the good times, supported me through the difficult ones and reminded me, time and time again, that nobody has to face life's challenges alone.
Looking back, that's the real story of my motorcycling journey.
Officially, I got into biking in 2008 because I was completely fed up with dreadful train services and sitting in endless traffic. That was the sensible answer. The real answer?
Bikers are cool.
I've always thought so.
I grew up in Lisburn, not far from the Ulster Grand Prix circuit at Dundrod, and motorcycles were always part of the backdrop of my childhood. Unfortunately, my parents weren't keen on the idea of me having one myself and the answer was always a firm: "While you're living under my roof..."
So when I eventually moved to Birmingham and experienced proper city traffic, I finally had the perfect excuse. I completed my CBT, bought a little 125 and started my life on two wheels.
What I didn't realise at the time was that I wasn't just joining a hobby.
I was joining a community.
Over the years, that community has become one of the most important parts of my life.
When life became difficult, they showed up.
They attended funerals.
They fed me and my husband.
They found excuses to organise ride-outs so I wouldn't be sitting at home alone.
They checked in when I wasn't feeling myself.
They simply turned up when it mattered.
I've often said that the biking community is like having a pack of golden retrievers nearby.
They're always pleased to see you.
Always up for an adventure.
And they'll happily sit beside you while you cry after making the mistake of watching Marley & Me.
It's a slightly ridiculous comparison. But it's also surprisingly accurate.
Today I'm a regional co-representative for Curvy Riders in Northern Ireland, and many of the women in the group are people I'm fortunate enough to call genuine friends.
One of the greatest pleasures is watching new riders discover the confidence and freedom that motorcycling can bring. Seeing women take those first tentative steps, overcome their nerves and realise what they're capable of is incredibly rewarding.
Motorcycling has also given me something more personal.
I've struggled with anxiety for most of my life. In fact, riding motorcycles still scares the living daylights out of me. But that's part of why I love it.
Every time I throw a leg over the bike, I overcome that fear.
Every ride is a small victory.
When you're riding, there's simply no room for whatever else is weighing you down. Your attention is completely focused on the road, the bike and what's happening around you.
For a little while, everything else falls away.
That focus is incredibly freeing.
It's one of the reasons I completed my IAM Advanced Riding qualification, which helped me enormously both as a rider and as a person.
These days I ride a Suzuki GSX-8R and, more recently, a Honda CB1000 Hornet—my first 1000cc motorcycle.
They're both fantastic bikes.
But if I'm honest, they're not the best thing motorcycling has given me.
The best thing has been the people.
The friendships.
The support.
The feeling that no matter what life throws at you, there's a group of people who understand exactly why a ride out, a cup of tea and a chat can make everything feel a little bit better.
And that's something truly special.