By Peter Church

I grew up in the 1960s and ‘70s and was lucky that my parents bought a mini bike, then dirt bikes, and had several acres for me to ride on.

I believe my daughter, Paislee will always have motorcycles in her life and will carry this forward to other people.

Paislee started riding at age 4. We live near my mother, who is still in the home where I grew up in Latham, N.Y., with several acres of land. That is where Paislee spends her time, happily riding her Suzuki, just as I did as child.

Now 9, whenever Paislee  gets off her bike and pops off her helmet long enough for a photo, a smile is always on her face.

She once stopped near me, and said, “Dad, there is something wrong with the bottom of my motorcycle. It keeps going up in the air.”

I replied, “Paislee you are going fast and hitting bumps—you are taking jumps!”

A big smile spread across her face, she said “Cool!” and rolled her throttle back and took off across the field again.

Today, whether watching her ride, riding with her or mowing my mom’s field, my childhood recollections bring me back to what is important in life.

It isn’t the media, news, politics or Hollywood. It is a child enjoying life’s moments, stopping her bike in the middle of a field to watch a rabbit or hear a bird, with not a care in the world.

Paislee has no idea she is building lifelong memories of the sights and smells of this field and the feel of the jumps she takes. As she becomes a kind, caring adult, she will look back fondly on these memories.

She may someday ride her motorcycle down a road and experience the familiar smell of the balsam tree, only to be transported right back to her childhood.

Sure, there is the danger of falling and hurting herself. As a child, I was once taken out of this field in an ambulance. Sitting inside playing video games or watching YouTube would keep her skin unblemished. But it was the countless hours of riding in these fields with my friend, Jon, that enabled me as an adult to ride across America in 2012.

Now, as I plan to ride from New York to Alaska, it is Paislee who insists I put a sidecar on my bike so she can come along. I’ll delay that trip until she is old enough to ride her own bike alongside me because it couldn’t be a better ride than with her by my side.

Circa 1972, my first “motorcycle” was a Suzuki Trailhopper. The tiny pines that provided the backdrop for me then are more than 40 feet tall now.

When Paislee rides in my mom’s field, I usually ride my Kubota tractor. But once in a while I reconnect with that young boy who relished every moment in this special place and happily accompany my daughter on my V-Strom.

Peter Church is an AMA member from Voorheesville, N.Y.