For more than four decades I've been riding motorcycles, and my experience confirms there's a basic misunderstanding among people who drive cars about people ride motorcycles. Consider this example involving a man in a convenience store parking lot.

Sheila and I were on a motorcycle tour, riding two-up on a Honda 800 and looking for a restaurant that folks at the bed and breakfast recommended. I couldn't find the place, so I pulled off the road to have another look at those directions they'd written down for me. There was a man sitting in a car across the parking lot and I thought he might be able to help us. I took off my gloves and helmet and started to walk over.

"Sir," I said, holding up the directions in my hand, "I'm trying to find McCurdy's Restaurant, can you help me out?" Frantically he waved me off. I stopped where I was and again asked, "Sir, I just want some help with directions. Can you tell me how to get to McCurdy's?" In a nervous fit he started his car, slid the window up, slammed the transmission into drive and bolted out of the parking lot, gravel flying in his wake. He looked back over his shoulder, to make sure I wasn't following him.

What had just happened? I looked back at Sheila, who was doubled over in hysterics, amazed that her easy-going and unassuming guy had frightened away this man. "It has to be the motorcycle," she laughed. "What else would it be?"

I thought she was right those many years ago, and hindsight hasn't offered me cause to change my mind. No one has ever run the other way when I've arrived in a car, but pulling up on a motorcycle – and my bikes are touring machines as quiet as a car – has resulted in drivers abruptly exiting a gas station, fleeing a picnic area, and alerting their passengers to roll 'em up and lock 'em. Any chance one of those drivers was you?

I ride motorcycles every chance I get and write about my experiences. Not surprisingly, I am acquainted with hundreds of riders who ride all kinds of motorcycles. The ones I know well work hard, love their families and friends, support worthy causes and try to be respectful of others, all while trying to stay safe enjoying their two-wheeled passion. My close friends who ride motorcycles include a surgeon, a college professor, a fine artist, a science teacher, a mechanic, a tool maker, an IT manager, a stay-at-home dad, and several engineers (engineers really seem to "get" motorcycles). Some ride sport-tourers and wear high-visibility textile gear. Others ride cruisers and prefer black leathers. There's not a scumbag among them. Quite a few I trust with my life.

Are bad apples on two wheels who give the rest of us a bad rap? Clearly. Some ride on the street as though it were a racetrack or stunt venue. Some run ridiculously loud exhaust pipes insisting it "saves lives." Some ignore traffic regulations and common courtesy. Some just want to annoy others.

But selfish people operate all kinds of motor vehicles. It's the person, not the conveyance. That said, my experience regularly confirms that motorcyclists can use all the positive PR we can muster, so I try to be an ambassador for the two wheeled community. Especially when I'm traveling, I like to help the non-riding public – which comprises the overwhelming majority of the U.S. population – to better understand those of us who ride motorcycles.

Sometimes all it takes is some pleasant conversation. There was the college professor on the flight from Jacksonville to Philly who told me she hated motorcycles because "they're all so loud" and then learned from me how so many of us who ride dislike loud pipes just as much. There was the business owner on a flight to Toronto who was surprised to learn that not every motorcycle is a Harley-Davidson. "You're telling me that Honda makes motorcycles now? And BMW?" "Yes," I explained, "since long before they were making cars."

While sitting on an airplane has provided some receptive (and captive) audiences, my best ambassador opportunities happen while I'm out riding. One June morning I was heading home to New England after a trip to the hills of southeastern Ohio to research a feature article on the region. Since first light I had been zigging and zagging to stay ahead of the rain, which was following my route north and east. At a roadside rest area in central Pennsylvania, I stopped to check the latest radar. Options for staying dry were diminishing.

A man walked by on the way back to his car. I offered a good morning greeting, which he returned. He stood next to his car, looked up at the ominous sky and then back at me. Shaking his head he said, "I can't believe you're out riding in this. Hope you don't have far to go." I said that I didn't, just a couple hundred more miles home. "A couple hundred?" he replied. "Man, that's just nuts. I mean really, what is the appeal of riding a motorcycle?"

Shifting into ambassador mode, I searched for a way to explain the appeal of riding a motorcycle to this man. Perhaps his question was rhetorical, but given the impending deluge it wasn't unreasonable. In a moment, I looked back at him and said, "Sir, so far I'm managing to avoid the storms, but when the rain comes this gear will keep me dry and warm. I wish it were sunny, but given the choice I'd much rather be on two wheels than in a car because riding a motorcycle is dancing with a machine." He nodded, as though my answer made a bit of sense. We wished one another safe travels.

I returned to the task of keeping those black clouds in my rearview mirrors and thought more about the dancing-with-a-machine metaphor. For me, the heart of the motorcycle dance is leaning into turns. It's a phenomenon that physics requires of a two-wheeled, one-track vehicle such as a motorcycle – and a joy from which drivers of two-track vehicles such as cars are precluded. But perhaps those drivers, perhaps you, know how it feels to dance. Imagine that your dance partner is nimble and powerful and that your dance floor is any road you choose. Think about how that might feel, light on your feet and savoring the motion. Now you're getting an idea of what compels many of us you see riding motorcycles to choose that manner of getting around.

Two-wheeled motoring can have other appeals: a sense of freedom, a feeling of belonging, or the sensation of traveling within the landscape instead of peering out from inside an enclosed box. But fundamentally it's just fun.

Next time you encounter a motorcyclist, you might ask why he or she chose two wheels over four. Go ahead, ask. Most of us aren't hooligans out to rob and pillage. We're probably a lot like you. We just prefer to ride.