Despite the fact that I was always taught to fear – to avoid – riding on the back of a motorcycle at 120 mph, I did just that yesterday afternoon as the clouds finally burned away and the sun came out in Santa Barbara.

I tried to look as cool as I could.

I had been asking my friend for a few months to show me what’s it like – to show me what he loves about it.

I only saw the speedometer hit 110, but my friend assures me we hit 120 (and I was admittedly distracted).

My roommates think I am nuts – but they went skydiving with me – so I’m struggling to see the difference.

To be fair, though, it is wild. No seatbelt, no real padding other than the thick jacket and the helmet. Cars all around you, the concrete below.

When we hit 110 shooting the gap between a car in the left lane and a slow eighteen wheeler in the right lane, I could have easily reached out my hand and slapped the side of the truck.

I’m truly not a reckless person – I only wanted to experience it – to see what the fuss was all about, why people do it, etc.

One tip for your adventure: Make sure you trust the driver.