The first time I watched my dad swing his right leg over the tank of his BMW motorcycle and slip his shiny helmet over his head, I knew I wanted one. Now, I choose to ride a motorcycle almost every day.

People don’t like it when they’re put into boxes, but it happens every day as we get into our Corollas and Civics.

Robert Pirsig wrote in ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’ that “in a car you’re always in a compartment, and because you’re used to it you don’t realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You’re a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.”

Riding isn’t about commuting to save on petrol prices, although there certainly isn’t a lot of complaining about the 50 MPG averaged on commutes to school.

Riding brings people together. It is a community. It can be said that once you ride, you are a part of some club that doesn’t really have a name or meetings. On the road, you get the simple wave of your left hand pointed down, sometimes a nod. It doesn’t matter whether you’re cruising along on a Honda or a Harley. The camaraderie is there.

Riding is religious. Whether it be for a 20-minute ride to school or a swoop around the canyons at Salmon Falls on a Suzuki GSX-R 600, riding can be considered an experience. It is not fighting against the world. It is being a part of something bigger.

The first time I realized this, I was stuck in the rain and hail. I was pelted from every direction and wondered if that was the end – if that was the way I’d go. As I took a left turn onto a familiar road, I glanced to the left and saw a sign marked ‘home’ soaked in rain and it was illuminated by waves of sunlight. It hit me then, amidst the inclement weather, that home was there. Home was on two wheels.

Riding can make you a more focused human being. It can make you see things you never would. As a self-proclaimed scatterbrain, riding has helped me achieve a kind of clarity I never thought possible as a person.

While riding, no matter how comfortable you get, safety is of utmost importance. In a car, distractions mount upon us. I wrote a satirical column last week about the impending California text message ban. Would people be as tempted to text if the asphalt were whizzing a foot below them?

For many, lack of safety stops them from getting on a motorcycle in the first place. Of course it seems less safe than a car. It’s simply you and the machine. It acts as incentive for the rider to pay attention and to keep distance from other drivers. In the end, it will be you slamming into a semi, not a bumper. You are your own bumper.

The biggest critic of motorcycles I’ve ever met is my mama. She hopped on the back of my dad’s motorcycle a few times back in her day, even burning her ankle on my dad’s 1978 Honda 450 many years ago. Now she is adamantly against anyone riding a motorcycle, especially her baby daughter.

“Getting into a car is dangerous enough. Why tempt the fates?” My mom, Nancy Monasky, said. “Riding a motorcycle can ruin many lives, most importantly your own.”

On the other side of the issue lies my dad, the one who sparked this whole cycling saga.

“I enjoy riding for pleasure, but I use it for commuting,” my dad, Michael Monasky, said. “I like long rides where I lose the concept of time but gain focus. That’s the way people should ride.”

Perhaps you’ve never agreed with a word written in this opinion section in regards to legislation or politics or even what I’ve chosen to watch on TV. But maybe you can agree that life is so much more interesting when you remove that frame, when you’re tasting every chunk of air, and when life is served to you at highway speeds.

Briana Monasky can be reached at [email protected]