HAVEN’T POSTED IN TWO WEEKS. MEA CULPA. LIFE GETS IN THE WAY SOMETIMES…
Motorcycling is a complicated activity. You have to know how to counterbalance, countersteer, when to brake going into a corner or a curve, how to lay off the brakes in a corner or a curve. You have to know when and how much to throttle up on a downshift, how and when to throttle down before dipping into a curve. You have to teach yourself to look as far as the horizon, and at the same time be mindful of what’s happening a foot away from you. You have to anticipate what the cagers might pull to screw up your day– or your life– and know how to keep your head on your shoulders when a bird has just sacrificed itself in an effort to take it off. You condition yourself not to flinch when a bug smacks your head like a golfball launched off the tee, or when a rock thrown up by the truck in front you smashes into your shin at sixty MPH. (A true biker feels more relief when the rock then skips into the ditch and not the valve cover. You know your shin will heal up.)
It can be hazardous out there. With all of the above– and tenfold more — to occupy us in order to remain safe and happy with each and every mile we conquer on our iron horses, there’s one skill that must be mastered before you can seriously consider yourself a motorcyclist: The wave.
What’s “the wave?”
We all should know it: You’re cruising down a state highway, relaxed, enjoying the sights and sounds in a way that can only be experienced on two wheels. On the horizon, in the oncoming lane, you spot a pinprick of light. It’s coming at you. An instant later, you realize it’s a colleague, a fellow traveler borne along on a gasoline fueled steed, a soul mate if you will. This moment needs to be acknowledged, and shared. Keeping your eyes forward and– depending on what type of head protection you’re using– your face stoic, like the executioner pulling the lever and sending the condemned dropping into eternity from the scaffold. You drop your left arm, then move it to just under forty five degrees away from your hip and, just as your about to blow past each other, you extend two, three, or even all of your digits, pointing at the narrow strip of road separating your machines. Your momentary riding friend has responded in kind. You pass, retract your arm, and continue with your ride. A scant moment, no briefer meeting will you ever have… but your meeting will not be forgotten– until the next guy comes at you.
Okay, but…WHY?
It’s brotherhood, man! A sign of solidarity…
True! It’s a signal from one like-minded soul to another. It’s an acknowledgement, recognition of a shared passion, a gesture other folks on the road simply don’t do. It’s mutual respect. “I feel ya, Brotha! And I got yer back!”
Nestled in their cages, worried about their retirement funds or whether they’ll like the haircut they’re already late for, automobile motorists often have their minds occupied by everything except the road stretched out before them. If they hit a dog, it’ll hardly phase them. Wipe off the bumper and speed away. While on your apparatus of liberation, you don’t have the luxury of killing a dog due to distraction. You’d better have your eyes open and your wits about you, or you could well be accompanying that mutt into the afterlife. That, my friends, sets you apart from those who carelessly careen about on four wheels, protected by doors and, most often, a roof. They’ve also got seat belts as another barrier against meeting Jesus. Airbags. Not us, no sir. There’s nothing between us and the pavement– and quite possibly the grave– but whatever gear we’re sporting and the skills we’ve developed. Those are the chances we’re willing to take to enjoy the freedom our chosen mode of transportation can provide, and we wave to our brothers (and sisters) as a sign of our understanding and appreciation of the risks and rewards granted by taking that risk.
Wow! How’d it get started?
Who knows? However, I wouldn’t feel right just leaving it at that, so I’ll share a couple of theories that have floated about since motorcycles first appeared on the roads of this great country. The first is that it was started by two famous names in American two-wheeled history, a Mister Harley and a Mister Davidson. These two gents were apparently close, and it was motorized cycles that brought them together. While in America’s motorcycling infancy, these two gentleman traveled about Milwaukee on their creations. They were often seen passing each other, and these colleagues would exchange waves. Before you know it, others who rode motorcycles– perhaps even those bearing the names of these two pioneers– picked up the habit themselves. Hmm… could well be…
The other theory is…
G.I.s returning home from World War Two often felt they could not fully return to normal American society. They felt isolated and misunderstood, which is reasonable, considering what they’d experienced fighting for their country. “Battle fatigue” is what it was called in the pre-PTSD days, and there was no cure for it but, “Suck it up, son. That’s all over now.” They had no outlet, and their buddies could well be scattered all over the country. They needed a manner to get away, if just for a bit, and the war actually provided an unorthodox treatment. The army used motorcycles, and they used a lot of them. After the war, they were sold off as surplus for pennies on the dollar. Most soldiers were familiar with motorcycles and they began began buying Army and Marine surplus. They began to form clubs with other veterans from the areas they lived in, primarily to be among people who’d had similar experience and knew better than to respond with, “Get over it, Mac.”
They, too, got credit for creating “the wave”, supposedly for the same reasons we’re assumed to do it now: a sign of comradery, solidarity and support. As the riding population outgrew its origins as a means of release and relief to returning home from a brutal conflict, and more civilians began riding it became a tradition for all motorcyclists. Another twist on the same path was that, as the former military guys began riding without surplus gear, it became increasingly difficult to discern between a veteran and a man who didn’t serve. Rather than risk showing disrespect to a former soldier, sailor or Marine, everybody offered a wave to an oncoming rider.
Is there a right way and a wrong way?
Yes, and no. The wave I described in my opening, the downward-forty-five- degree-angle-upside-down-peace-sign-wave is the generally accepted standard. As I also mentioned, it could be two-to-five digits pointed down. The two fingers is believed to acknowledge we’re both traveling on two wheels, and this signifies it, and that it’s best to keep them in contact with Mother Earth, asphalt and concrete in particular. This is the most common wave out there. However, should more than two be pointed there is no cause for panic, consternation or confusion. This can be ignored or interpreted, depending on your analytical bent, but keep in mind if you feel compelled to figure it out, “why more than two fingers?”, you’ll have to accept you’re interpretation will most likely be yours and yours alone. It could mean they’re so overjoyed to meet you two fingers doesn’t seem to say enough; or it could mean how many bikes they own; or “This is how many women I’ve slept with!” Who knows? Not I, and I can promise nobody else knows– or cares. Even your best riding buddies will be outright puzzled by your concern, or assure you they don’t give a shit.
The variations on the wave are often dependent on the style of both the bike and the rider. If a cruiser or naked bike encounters an oncoming bike of similar style, you can expect the standard lowered arm, digits down wave from both riders. However, those astride sportbikes have a style of riding that can make the standard wave an imperilment. You offer the standard, and get a short lift of the left hand in return. Take no offense. Dropping an arm adds another hazard to the already hazardous act of dry humping one thousand screaming centiliters.
Other variations can be seen, and most are acceptable. A raised fist; a standard, upright “peace sign”; or just a simple raised hand. Again, these responses don’t merit much consideration– you’re only meeting for a nanosecond, anyhow, and what motivates an unexpected response should hardly be anything that screws up your day. Just accept it and roll on.
What’s not acceptable is responding like a kid who’s trying to get his teacher’s attention or the highly stylized “parade wave”, mostly seen by pageant contestants, folks in a parade, or the Queen of England. Don’t do it. Like it or not, riding a bike grants you a degree of coolness you may not actually possess, but you’ve gotten credit for it by default. Don’t screw it up by turning into a moron just because you see another bike on the road.
Is that it?
Oh, hell no. I’ve got more, but I’m running out of space and wearing out my welcome. I’ll be back in a couple days with vital information, i.e. my personal preferences about when to defer from this sacred gesture, and who may or may not deserve it. STAY TUNED!