As of today, I have had the unique experience of riding in a Ural as a sidecar passenger and operating a Ural with a passenger in the sidecar. They could not be more different experiences and still be on the same machine.

As a motorcycle passenger, I know which side of the bike to climb onto and when. I'm clear about when is a good time to adjust in my seat and when I need to hold on and not lean. I keep my body pressed against Shrop's so that he's clear about where I am while operating the bike.

Riding in a Ural sidecar is cheat mode. I can climb in before Shrop has even gotten to the parking space. I can ride in a skirt and flip-flops. There's a whole trunk for anything I might want to bring. I can still smell when some restaurant is baking bread or a house is grilling for dinner. I can smell flowers and fresh-cut grass. I can feel the temperature changes of microclimates on a short ride across town. I have zero responsibilities as a sidecar passenger. I can wiggle around all day and not impact the bike's motion. I can twist around to stare at the world or wave to pedestrians. I could fall asleep if I chose. And I can casually put my left hand in Shrop's rear left pocket as we cruise around.

Last night as we were leaving for dinner, I tore a fingernail and filed my nails while sitting in the sidecar.

Meanwhile, Shrop said last night, "I'm working my ass off to go 45 mph!"

This morning was my turn to learn how to operate the Ural. Step one was figuring out how to engage reverse to get us out of the driveway. Then once I had backed off the driveway against the neighbor's bushes, I had to exit out of soft grass up a slight incline with the front wheel turned hard to the left to miss both Suburbans parked in our driveway.

This Ural is a dual-carburetor four-speed, and each gear is mutually exclusive to RPMs, speed, and situation. On my Kawasaki fuel-injected six-speed, I could cruise in any gear between third and sixth and be ok. On the Ural, second gear is the only workable gear until it is the worst possible gear, and third becomes the only workable gear. The exact process repeats on the way back down the gears.

The Ural has a heel shift, which is new for me, particularly with no floorboards like a Harley would have. I'm sliding my left foot around to find the shifter while still keeping the ball of my foot generally on the foot peg. The transmission is also more akin to a tractor than anything on a race track. Shrop says that the Ural is like a dirt bike and a tractor had a baby. "Shift with authority!" was the primary feedback from my maiden voyage.

I got up to about 42 mph between the Bel Aire Pancake House and home this morning. It felt like I was flying. And by flying, I mean like those tiny little Cessnas skittering around trying to land in high winds. Nothing about a Ural is fast or in a straight line.

When you accelerate on a Ural, it pulls to the right because of the sidecar's inertia. When you brake on a Ural, it pulls to the left because of the sidecar's inertia. The manual said that one should always brake with front and rear brakes. However, in the 2012 model, both rear wheels are drum brakes, and the manual indicates there can be over an inch of slack in the rear brake lever before it engages.

Shrop has found that 80% of your braking is with the front brake. Once you engage that brake enthusiastically, the sidecar tries to swing around towards the front of the bike, because it didn’t get the memo about braking. Engine braking accounts for another 10% of the braking. Braking on a shaft-drive motorcycle sometimes makes the Ural rotate in the other direction. So as Shrop said, we plan ahead to stop, apply the front disc brake and use engine braking, and then sprinkle in the rear brake "like garlic to taste" to keep the bike and sidecar generally in a straight line.

All of that happens with a vehicle about five feet wide. It's not nearly as easy to share a lane with your motorcycle buddy, and you aren't sharing a parking space. My first 100 feet on the road out of the driveway, Shrop pushed the handlebars to steer me away from the gutter, with some comment like, "I'm over here too and need to be on the road. Take up more space."

We didn't even cover turning right at speed and the potential to "fly the car," which would immediately change the physics of how the bike turns once it becomes a two-wheeled vehicle instead of a three-wheeled one. That's for another day.

I'm sure there is some analogy about two people getting together for a journey. The person in the sidecar isn't working nearly as hard for that trip as the one trying to manage all the levers and physics. The person in the sidecar is affected by the operator's decisions. And the Ural's unique quirks impact both people on this trip. Shrop said I did a good job today. And we can easily carry our leftover pancakes home from breakfast.