We were on another one of our long motorcycle rides down to the far side of Corral Canyon, Father and I. One of the wider trails terminated under a grove of large oak trees, creating a fine place to rest before following one of the more challenging trails which split off in several directions. Father stopped and shut his bike off. Much to my surprise, he removed his helmet, signaling to me that he meant to rest for longer than I would have expected. We walked over and sat under one of the great oaks. He then proceeded to explain to me some few details about the nature of the human reproductive system. More than anything, I was mystified at his clear discomfort with the subject, but I found the information every bit as interesting as any other new thing. Something though, about the whole explanation left me feeling distant and a little dirty inside, as if I had done something I knew was wrong. I couldn’t place my finger on it then, but hearing Father talk about the differences between male and female bodies felt alien to me. As we rode the long, winding trail home, my thoughts ranged even wider than the path. Something about what Father had told me seemed wrong, and at odds with my own experience. For the first time, on that ride back to the van, I experienced what I now know as disassociation, and in my mind there is a large period afterward where I have no memories.