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My buddy David Wells is a big motorcycle guy, so when I go visit him in San Diego, he takes me out on his bike. He's got some antique Indians. I never really rode during my career, because I was afraid I'd fall off and ruin my career.

I'm continuing to do research into biker culture.

Eventually, I grew out of my interest in motorcycles because they're quite dangerous. I don't ride them anymore. But I have this history.

All my best memories of my brother are in vehicles, speeding, predatory or celebratory. We were just made to drive. For the last 12 years of his life, he lived as caretaker of an orange grove. There, on 18 acres, my brother collected cars and trucks and motorcycles.

My grandpa was a big cowboy in his values and the way he lived his life. For our family, the ranch represented our family time when we got to drive down through all that desert farmland and Grandpa would wake us up at 5 A.M. to feed the horses if we wanted to earn the right to ride them later. I always had so much fun.

I grew up in a small town where we played around on motorcycles and things, but it really started when I got old enough. I think I was obsessed with the culture of riding. I got sick of having to date guys who rode motorcycles for me to be on them.

My father was a motorsports journalist and a motorbike fan. He gave me my motocross bike.

I know a little bit about motorcycles and motorcycle riding.

I cycled when I was at high school, then reconnected with bikes in New York in the late '70s. It was a good way of getting around the clubs and galleries of the Lower East Side and Soho.