Today we’d like to introduce you to Terri Benn.
Hi Terri, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
Learning to ride a motorcycle saved my life.
There was a time when I was clinically depressed, consumed by work, family, and motherhood — but not myself. Over coffee one day, my friend Melissa looked at me, tears in her eyes, and asked, “What do you do for fun?”
Without thinking, I replied, “The kids and I…” She stopped me. “No, what do you do for yourself?”
I didn’t have an answer. My life revolved around everyone but me. Then she asked, “What do you want to do?” I surprised both of us when I said, “Ride a motorcycle.” Melissa didn’t laugh or dismiss it. She simply said, “Then do it.”
That summer, another friend’s husband taught me the basics of riding in just one day. For my birthday that year, I treated myself to the Motorcycle Safety Foundation (MSF) class. I passed, earned my endorsement, and felt a spark I hadn’t felt in years. That was thirteen years ago.
But learning to ride and feeling confident on a bike are two different things. My first motorcycle, a 1985 Honda Shadow Sabre, which I named Faith, nearly defeated me. On my first solo ride around the cul-de-sac, I lost control, ended up on the sidewalk, and lay there looking up at the sky. With tears streaming down my face, I asked God if I’d made a mistake.
In that quiet moment, I felt a voice say, “Get up. Pick up your bike. Go home.”
It took me two weeks to try again. When I did, I practiced one small thing at a time—balancing, going straight, turning slowly. One night at a motorcycle clubhouse, I mentioned I needed help. A man named Prince offered to teach me. When I called him the next day, he said, “I thought you were calling in the morning. You ready?”
For weeks, he patiently coached me. We practiced in my neighborhood until I could ride smoothly, then ventured further — one mile, three, five. One day, he said, “Ride to my apartment.” When I arrived, he told me, “Today, we’re hitting the highway. The highway is easier than the street.”
I was terrified. But he was right: the highway was easier than riding in street traffic. That ride opened up a new world for me. That year, I logged more than 12,000 miles — crossing state lines into South Carolina, Alabama, and Tennessee — and discovered a deep love for bridges and riding near water. I also learned to change the oil, coolant, and brake pads!
Ten years ago, I founded Atlanta Female Riders, Inc. (AFR) — officially recognized as a nonprofit in 2018 — to help other women experience the same freedom, confidence, safety, and sisterhood I found on two wheels. While some women I knew had accidents but managed to recover and keep riding, others chose not to ride again after recovering. Tragically, some do not survive their accidents. I had seen too many women give up after accidents, fear, or lack of support. I wanted to change that.
Our first official ride was unforgettable: twelve women, on sport bikes and cruisers, rode from Atlanta to Lafayette, Louisiana, for an all-female motorcycle weekend celebrating International Female Ride Day. We called it “Atlanta to the Boot.”
As an educator by profession, it felt natural to combine my love for teaching with my passion for riding. AFR’s mission is rooted in education, camaraderie, and safety — helping women build skills, confidence, and community. From parking-lot practice to crossing state lines, we’ve guided riders through every stage of the journey. Since then, I’ve ridden through 25 states, Windsor, Ontario, Canada and Niagara Falls, on the New York side. And while building a nonprofit is not for the faint of heart, I’m proud of AFR’s solid foundation. I’m thankful for the various family and friends who have guided AFR serving as Board Members or a listening ear.
After a decade of leadership, helping so many women ride, cross a state line, find a riding buddy, I knew it was time for a new chapter. I believe that true leadership means knowing when to pass the torch. Today, AFR has a new Board President, Shirley Vaughn — and I couldn’t be prouder. Atlanta Female Riders, Inc., is thriving, evolving, and continuing to empower women riders everywhere. I look forward to AFR’s growth under her leadership!
Riding a motorcycle may have saved my life, but riding also gave me purpose — to help other women find strength, freedom, and love for the open road.
See you in the wind!
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
Sometimes, the struggles we face are not visible when we are passionate about what we do. When I founded AFR, I sought the support of four remarkable women who each brought unique skills to the Board table. Their belief and the belief of current board members, in both me and our mission to develop AFR into a successful non-profit has been invaluable. Although our board has evolved over the years, every member has played a crucial role in advancing the vision of Atlanta Female Riders, Inc.
In the beginning, we faced the challenge of five women trying to navigate the complexities of running a non-profit without prior experience. However, this initial hurdle has transformed into an opportunity for growth. The current board is actively taking courses to deepen their knowledge of non-profit management, which will enable us to strengthen and expand AFR in the future.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
When asked what I do, my reply is that I am a special education teacher. Currently, I serve as a Behavior Intervention Specialist, working with students who need to develop their abilities to manage their behavior so they can learn effectively. In addition to supporting students, I also assist teachers helping to develop classroom and behavior management skills, providing guidance and strategies to help them create a positive learning environment.
My first and forever love is special education. I began my journey in education at a child development center specializing in children aged 6 weeks to 4 years. This inclusive setting, which welcomed both children with and without special needs, opened my eyes to the world of caring for young children and ignited my passion for supporting those with special needs.
After several years working with children, my husband and I started our own family. Two years after my child’s birth, I realized he had special needs—specifically, autism. One day, his special needs pre-kindergarten teacher suggested that I apply to work as a paraprofessional. This would allow me to be home with my son during summer breaks and holidays, ensuring I could support him both at school and at home.
I worked as a paraprofessional for two years before taking on the role of a long-term substitute kindergarten teacher. Following that, I spent two years teaching special needs students in kindergarten through second grade. In my 33 years of working with children, I have taught infants 12th grade, general education, and mild to severe intellectual delays. Through these experiences, I developed a deeper understanding and commitment to supporting children with special needs and their families.
I often tell people that autism, special needs, and teaching chose me. I never saw myself as an educator; my initial intention was to become a speech pathologist. During my undergraduate studies, I worked with children with autism, which further shaped my perspective and purpose. God has a wonderful sense of humor allowing me to learn and teach children with autism and becoming the mother to a son with autism. I am thankful God brought my children, Jordan and Jasmine into my life.
What sets me apart from others, I seem to have a knack for knowing when a child/student has special needs. When I taught kindergarten, I had a class of 20 students. Five of those students had undiagnosed special needs. I just seem to know. I don’t know how. I just seem to know.
Before we let you go, we’ve got to ask if you have any advice for those who are just starting out?
You need to believe in what you are doing and understand why it matters. The initial God-given spark that ignites your fire and passion may not burn as brightly two, five, or even ten years down the road. Therefore, revisit and refine what inspired your dream and why it was important to you in the first place. As you grow both personally and professionally, ensure that you continuously adapt your vision. If you remain stagnant for too long, you risk forgetting what sparked your passion – that passion can fade, dreams can dim, and your sense of purpose can diminish as well.
When I started my non-profit, I wish I had known more about the field. I mistakenly thought that money would naturally flow into a non-profit’s bank account. However, that’s not how it works! I also realized that I wasn’t as business-minded as I needed to be, which is why I surrounded myself with people who possess the skills I lacked. It’s essential to recognize what you don’t know; this awareness will help you understand the significance of collaborating with individuals who have expertise in areas where you may be lacking. In all you do, constantly reflect on where you are personally and professionally. If you aren’t where you desire to be, make necessary changes that will grow and enhance your knowledge and life!!!
Pricing:
- AFR is considering paid memberships.
- Our signature event, See You In The Wind – Atlanta’s Female Ride costs about $50.00 which is subject to change.
- Our Chat and Chew events are FREE! We encourage riders and would-be riders to join us and learn about motorcycling and safety!
Contact Info:
- Website: https://Atlantafemaleriders.com
- Instagram: atlfemaleriders
- Facebook: ATLANTA FEMALE RIDERS Inc. (A.F.R)
