I got an ATV. Now, before you roll your eyes and picture me launching over canyons or terrorizing local wildlife, it’s not as crazy as it sounds.

My backyard backs right into a sprawling public forest: prime real estate if you’re into aimless wandering or dog-walking. For years, that’s exactly what folks around here did. Then COVID-19 hit, and suddenly I started hearing distant echoes of dirt bikes and ATVs ripping through the trees. Initially, my brain went straight to suspicion mode—surely those hooligans had to be up to something illegal! I was not sure what laws they were breaking, but I was pretty confident someone would stop them eventually. But nobody ever did. Clearly, if no one’s busted them yet, it must not be illegal. Or, maybe, it’s just not illegal enough.

Fast forward to today, and those motors kept growling through the woods. Eventually, it dawned on me: Why don’t I have an ATV? I mean, who in their right mind lives next to a forest and doesn’t have something fun to drive recklessly through it? Now, there’s an endless list of gloriously stupid things I would love to buy, but I strive for a particular type of stupidity. That is, things that I can rationalize as “smart” because they’ll bring me happiness (and bonus points if they’re not ridiculously expensive).

I told my brother-in-law I’m an “outdoor guy,” but he swiftly corrected me. “No, you’re really more of a backyard guy.” Harsh, but true. I don’t want to hike miles into the unknown or spend a night in a tent on uneven ground, and I absolutely refuse to encounter a snake without a viable escape plan. So what’s left for me—someone who wants to spend time outdoors, with kids, but safely within striking distance of home and the refrigerator? Exactly. Enter the ATV.

Are kids shaped more by nature or nurture? Honestly, no clue. But I sure as hell plan to nurture mine into liking the stuff that I like. If that means gently immersing them into the refined art of low-speed, semi-responsible off-roading, then by God, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

Let’s crunch the numbers: A shiny new ATV runs about $10k (yes, there are plenty cheaper, and plenty pricier, but math gets fuzzy if I stray too far). After five years, a well-maintained ATV will hold onto roughly 60-70% of its original value. Translation: I’m paying around $3k to joyride this magnificent toy for half a decade.

I’d never even sat on an ATV until mine landed in my driveway. Street riding is about as thrilling as folding laundry, but the minute those wheels climbed over logs, lurched across rocks and powered up and down muddy hills, I was hooked. This thing is a hoot-and-a-half, pure backyard adrenaline at about 12 mph. For roughly $50 a month (simple depreciation math: $10k minus 30%, divided by 60 months), I highly encourage you to discover the joys of legally questionable outdoor fun for yourself. After all, if you’re going to indulge your dumb ideas, you might as well pick one you’ll never regret.