Even though I am the cherished firstborn and thus am supposed to have an amazing relationship with my parents, my dad and I have never been that close. My younger brother and my dad, though, have always had a strong relationship. When John was three years old, he began playing ice hockey. From then on, during every hockey season they spent huge amounts of time together bonding while I was off playing basketball or tennis with my mom. Besides John, she has a good relationship with my dad. Yes, obviously they have known each other for half their lives, and they also see each other every day since they work in the same office.

For some reason, since I've been old enough to realize how precious life is and what a big influence parents are, my feelings have been more sensitive about my family. I have this fear of losing them. Unfortunately, I have also been jealous of those who have a great relationship with my dad.

Five years ago, my dad purchased his first motorcycle, which quickly became his passion. He does not belong to Hell's Angels, nor is he a junk collector who assembles bikes from random parts. Rather, he is a classic soul who follows motorcycles for their craft. As a result, he's met up with some buddies. While they make plans for long-distance travel in the summer, I find myself in the shadows and again wishing I had their relationship with him. They spend weeks with him, more time than I do in months.

Last fall, a simple change in my life made the biggest difference. When I started high school, I had to take the bus. Since my dad leaves early for work, he started driving me to the bus stop. In those five minutes every morning, we have the opportunity to talk and, finally, bond! We talk about whatever comes up: weather, school, sports, anything. Whenever it is bitterly cold, we have a silly time in the car reminding each other to hit the controls with the peppy words, "Seat heat!" And if it snows, we enjoy watching cars slide through the intersection and chat about what car not to get in the future. The small talk and funny phrases give me a piece of my dad I have never had. And as happy as I am that we've gotten closer, I am afraid that the time may soon be passing, since in a year, I'll have my license.

I find myself afraid: I don't want these little morning trips to end, or our newly acquired relationship to diminish. I've never once told my dad about my disappointments or how his driving me to the bus stop has helped build our relationship.