the wave

[Jazzscot]

Stolen from another forum because I think you guys deserve a good wee read.



The Wave

By Tom Ruttan
The bike's passenger seat swept up just enough that I could see over my father's shoulders. That seat was my throne. My dad and I traveled many backroads, searching for the ones we had never found before. Traveling these roads just to see where they went. Never in a rush. Just be home for supper.

I remember wandering down a back road with my father, sitting on my throne watching the trees whiz by, feeling the rumble of our bike beneath us like a contented giant cat. A motorcycle came over a hill toward us and as it went by, my father threw up his gloved clutch hand and gave a little wave. The other biker waved back with the same friendly swing of his left wrist.

I tapped my father on his shoulder, which was our signal that I wanted to say something. He cocked his helmeted ear back slightly while keeping his eyes ahead.

I yelled, "Do we know him?"

"What?" He shouted.

"You waved to him. Who was it?"

"I don't know. Just another guy on a bike. So I waved."

"How come?"

"You just do it. It's important."

Later, when we had stopped for chocolate ice cream, I asked why it was important to wave to other bikers. My father tried to explain how the wave demonstrated comradeship and a mutual understanding of what it was to enjoy riding a motorcycle. He looked for the words to describe how almost all bikers struggled with the same things like cold, rain, heat, car drivers who did not see them, but how riding remained an almost pure pleasure.

I was young then and I am not sure that I really understood what he was trying to get across, but it was a beginning. Afterward, I always waved along with my father when we passed other bikers.

I remember one cold October morning when the clouds were heavy and dark, giving us another clue that winter was riding in from just over the horizon. My father and I were warm inside our car as we headed to a friend's home. Rounding a corner, we saw a motorcycle parked on the shoulder of the road. Past the bike, we saw the rider walking through the ditch, scouring the long grasses crowned with a touch of frost. We pulled over and backed up to where the bike stood.

I asked dad, "Who's that?"

"Don't know," he replied. "But he seems to have lost something. Maybe we can give him a hand."

We left the car and wandered through the tall grass of the ditch to the biker. He said that he had been pulling on his gloves as he rode and he had lost one. The three of us spent some time combing the ditch, but all we found were two empty cans and a plastic water bottle.

My father turned and headed back to our car and I followed him. He opened the trunk and threw the cans and the water bottle into a small cardboard box that we kept for garbage. He rummaged through various tools, oil containers, and windshield washer fluid until he found an old crumpled pair of brown leather gloves. Dad straightened them out and handed them to me to hold. He continued looking until he located an old catalogue. I understood why my dad had grabbed the gloves. I had no idea what he was going to do with the catalogue. We headed back to the biker who was still walking the ditch.

My dad said, "Here's some gloves for you. And I brought you a catalog as well."

"Thanks," he replied. "I really appreciate it." He reached into his hip pocket and withdrew a worn black wallet.

"Let me give you some money for the gloves," he said as he slid some bills out.

"No thanks," my dad replied as I handed the rider the gloves. "They're old and not worth anything anyway."

The biker smiled. "Thanks a lot."

He pulled on the old gloves and then he unzipped his jacket. I watched as my father handed him the catalogue and the biker slipped it inside his coat. He jostled his jacket around to get the catalogue sitting high and centered under his coat and zipped it up. I remember nodding my head at the time, finally making sense of why my dad had given him the catalogue. It would keep him a bit warmer. After wishing the biker well, my father and I left him warming up his bike.

Two weeks later, the biker came to our home and returned my father's gloves. He had found our address on the catalogue. Neither my father nor the biker seemed to think that my father stopping at the side of the road for a stranger and giving him a pair of gloves, and that stranger making sure that the gloves were returned, were events at all out of the ordinary for people who rode motorcycles. For me, it was another subtle lesson.

It was spring the next year when I was sitting high on my throne, watching the farm fields slip by when I saw two bikes coming toward us. As they rumbled past, both my father and I waved, but the other bikers kept their sunglasses locked straight ahead and did not acknowledge us. I remember thinking that they must have seen us because our waves were too obvious to miss. Why hadn't they waved back? I thought all bikers waved to one another.

I patted my father on his shoulder and yelled, "How come they didn't wave to us?"

"Don't know. Sometimes they don't."

I remember feeling very puzzled. Why wouldn't someone wave back?

Late that summer, I turned 12 and learned how to ride a bike with a clutch. I spent many afternoons on a country laneway beside our home, kicking and kicking to start my father's '55 BSA. When it would finally sputter to a start, my concentration would grow to a sharp focus as I tried to let out the clutch slowly while marrying it with just enough throttle to bring me to a smooth takeoff. More often, I lurched and stumbled forward while trying to keep the front wheel straight and remember to pick my feet up. A few feet farther down the lane, I would sigh and begin kicking again.

A couple of years later, my older brother began road racing, and I became a racetrack rat. We spent many weekends wandering to several tracks in Ontario -Harewood, Mosport, and eventually Shannonville. These were the early years of two-stroke domination, of Kawasaki green and 750 two-stroke triples, of Yvon Duhamel's cat-and-mouse games and the artistry of Steve Baker.

Eventually, I started to pursue interests other than the racetrack. I got my motorcycle licence and began wandering the backroads on my own. I found myself stopping along sideroads if I saw a rider sitting alone, just checking to see if I could be of help. And I continued to wave to each biker I saw.

But I remained confused as to why some riders never waved back. It left me with almost a feeling of rejection, as if I were reaching to shake someone's hand but they kept their arm hanging by their side.

I began to canvass my friends about waving. I talked with people I met at bike events, asking what they thought. Most of the riders told me they waved to other motorcyclists and often initiated the friendly air handshake as they passed one another.

I did meet some riders, though, who told me that they did not wave to other riders because they felt that they were different from other bikers. They felt that they were "a breed apart." One guy told me in colourful language that he did not "wave to no wusses." He went on to say that his kind of bikers were tough, independent, and they did not require or want the help of anyone, whether they rode a bike or not.

I suspected that there were some people who bought a bike because they wanted to purchase an image of being tougher, more independent, a not-putting-up-with-anyone's-crap kind of person, but I did not think that this was typical of most riders.

People buy bikes for different reasons. Some will be quick to tell you what make it is, how much they paid for it, or how fast it will go. Brand loyalty is going to be strong for some people whether they have a Harley, Ford, Sony, Nike, or whatever. Some people want to buy an image and try to purchase another person's perception of them. But it can't be done. They hope that it can, but it can't.

Still, there is a group of people who ride bikes who truly are a "breed apart." They appreciate both the engineering and the artistry in the machines they ride. Their bikes become part of who they are and how they define themselves to themselves alone.

They don't care what other people think. They don't care if anyone knows how much they paid for their bike or how fast it will go. The bike means something to them that nothing else does. They ride for themselves and not for anyone else. They don't care whether anyone knows they have a bike. They may not be able to find words to describe what it means to ride, but they still know.
They might not be able to explain what it means to feel the smooth acceleration and the strength beneath them. But they understand.

These are the riders who park their bikes, begin to walk away and then stop. They turn and look back. They see something when they look at their bikes that you might not. Something more complex, something that is almost secret, sensed rather than known. They see their passion. They see a part of themselves.

These are the riders who understand why they wave to other motorcyclists. They savour the wave. It symbolizes the connection between riders, and if they saw you and your bike on the side of the road, they would stop to help and might not ask your name. They understand what you are up against every time you take your bike on the road - the drivers that do not see you, the ones that cut you off or tailgate you, the potholes that hide in wait. The rain. The cold.

I have been shivering and sweating on a bike for more than 40 years. Most of the riders that pass give me a supportive wave. I love it when I see a younger rider on a "crotch rocket" scream past me and wave. New riders carrying on traditions.

And I will continue in my attempts to get every biker just a little closer to one another with a simple wave of my gloved clutch hand. And if they do not wave back when I extend my hand into the breeze as I pass them, I will smile a little more. They may be a little mistaken about just who is a "breed apart."

[VTRDark]

Nice story and so true It's good to give a little wave or nod. Something I miss when riding around town, but on the open roads it's a different story. Another one is riding up to another rider and letting them know their indicator is still on. Do that in town and they think your a weirdo.

(:-})

[Flatline]

This just about sums it up

Still, there is a group of people who ride bikes who truly are a "breed apart." They appreciate both the engineering and the artistry in the machines they ride. Their bikes become part of who they are and how they define themselves to themselves alone.

They don't care what other people think. They don't care if anyone knows how much they paid for their bike or how fast it will go. The bike means something to them that nothing else does. They ride for themselves and not for anyone else. They don't care whether anyone knows they have a bike. They may not be able to find words to describe what it means to ride, but they still know.
They might not be able to explain what it means to feel the smooth acceleration and the strength beneath them. But they understand.

These are the riders who park their bikes, begin to walk away and then stop. They turn and look back. They see something when they look at their bikes that you might not. Something more complex, something that is almost secret, sensed rather than known. They see their passion. They see a part of themselves.

These are the riders who understand why they wave to other motorcyclists. They savour the wave. It symbolizes the connection between riders, and if they saw you and your bike on the side of the road, they would stop to help and might not ask your name. They understand what you are up against every time you take your bike on the road - the drivers that do not see you, the ones that cut you off or tailgate you, the potholes that hide in wait. The rain. The cold.

[tony.mon]

That's rather touching, and I very much associate with the imagery; I too wave at everyone, and will stop for a biker if he looks like (or she) needs help.

One day I was hacking it a bit in the back roads leading to work, and a bloke in a car coming the other way waved at me to slow down.
I was using all the road, and although i was back on my side by the time I reached him, I'd been on his side of the road as he came into view, and I assumed that he was unhappy about that, and I gave him the wonker signal as I went past.
As I went round a blind bend a couple of corners later I found a dustcart parked up, and nearly ran into the back of it. if anything had been coming the other way I'd have hit one or the other.

I often wish I could find and apologise to that bloke.
If he was, as I suspect, a biker, who, like me, uses a car sometimes, he was trying to be helpful and I was acting like a belligerent prick.

That's one of my life's regrets. I have others, but that one I wish I could undo more than any other.

The story above helps me realise why.

[AMCQ46]

Nice story jazz

And yours tony, I think we have all been there one way or another, but as long as we pass on the good will to another biker on another day in another way, the good karma will carry on

[Virt]

That's quite deep and poetic.

Although I wouldn't exactly define myself as a "young rider on a crotch rocket" I do understand the symbolism of the gesture, however I usually prefer to give out a rather pronounced nod/chin jut in towns (where the majority of my riding is unfortunately) as I'm not a huge fan of riding one handed at fairly low speeds.. Either way, I always wave at other riders and about 95% of the time I get a wave back, but the feeling of rejection when you see someone (usually on a custom or chopper or whatever, sorry for generalising) stare right at you nod/wave at them and just carry on kinda hurts..

Though that being said, my personal thoughts on the wave were that it was just a way to show acknowledgement to another rider, sort of an "I see you" as too many cars seem not to. Very interesting post though, gonna have to ponder that one over a little bit.

[Whoa Nelly]

Thanks for posting that Jazzscot - saw it somewhere a while back and its stayed with me. Touching but not twee.

[VTRDark]

Isn't the waving thing also an old AA tradition. Drivers would wave at an AA man and he would wave back. It's also a thing with the Eddie Stobarts trucks. If you wave at them they are supposed to wave back. I have also noticed that you get a lot more drivers flashing lights to warn of police up ahead. But yet again this is all mainly outside the city area's.

(:-})

[Whoa Nelly]

Isn't the waving thing also an old AA tradition. Drivers would wave at an AA man and he would wave back. It's also a thing with the Eddie Stobarts trucks. If you wave at them they are supposed to wave back. I have also noticed that you get a lot more drivers flashing lights to warn of police up ahead. But yet again this is all mainly outside the city area's.

(:-})

The ol' AA patrols would pointedly not wave back as a warning of a speed trap. Or if they were trying to wrestle the sidecar combo round a fast righthander

[BigVeeGrin]

wave or nod? I always nod, not sure seen too many wavers

[phagg]

Not posted before,{bit of a stalker}'But that was absolutely spot on to me,best description of a passion that makes us all keep getting up..nice one.

[NHSH]

That's quite deep and poetic.

Although I wouldn't exactly define myself as a "young rider on a crotch rocket" I do understand the symbolism of the gesture, however I usually prefer to give out a rather pronounced nod/chin jut in towns (where the majority of my riding is unfortunately) as I'm not a huge fan of riding one handed at fairly low speeds.. Either way, I always wave at other riders and about 95% of the time I get a wave back, but the feeling of rejection when you see someone (usually on a custom or chopper or whatever, sorry for generalising) stare right at you nod/wave at them and just carry on kinda hurts..

Though that being said, my personal thoughts on the wave were that it was just a way to show acknowledgement to another rider, sort of an "I see you" as too many cars seem not to. Very interesting post though, gonna have to ponder that one over a little bit.

Here in North America it is allot more defined I think, at list from my experience riding on four continents that is! You get that wave rejection 90% of the time from Harley riders, probably due to the fact that most Harley riders here are pretenders, want to be seen like they are tough and be part of a special breed as advertised by Harley (which I call approval needing behavior), I find it annoying at times as I wave to any biker unless I'm too busy controlling the bike and then I would nod, but on the other hand, as they will never stop to a non Harley riders stuck on the side of the road, I will never stop for them as well, even though they spend more time stuck on the side of the road then any other bike on earth, totally there lose in my opinion. For me personally, I don't care what bike you ride, any two wheels are welcome, but when you get that rejection, cause you are not "Harley", well then.... too bad for you to loose at the end for being what you are .
As a side note, I don't have respect Harley D' as a company for treating Erik buell like a cancer within there "special breed", he had more innovation in few years then Harley had in 100 years

[NHSH]

Jazzscot, very touchy post

Question, what signs do you use in the UK for communicating Cops, speed cam's or any other potential problems?
Sorry to take this thread to a different direction, though still related

[Virt]

Yeah, I have the same view as you "two wheels is two wheels" just a shame. It's why I dislike Harley on a moral basis too, they've ruined a part of the biker community. Although It's not as pronounced here.

Speed camera signs look like this


However that sign is used on roads with definite speeds cameras and roads that the police sometime sit on and record people going past, so because you see a sign it doesn't always guarantee a speed camera. They like to keep the surprise to use as a deterrent

[VTRDark]

which I call approval needing behavior

PMSL I like it.

As Virt said we do have warning signs for the fixed camera's which are required by law to warn us that a particular road may contain cameras, also the cameras themselves can not be hidden and have to be painted bright Yellow. If anyone gets flashed by one of these and receives a penalty in the post/mail and can prove otherwise, then they will be let off. I think the signs also have to be at a fixed distance apart from each other, one every so often as well.

These do not help when it comes to GATSO's, the laser guns the enemy point at vehicles going down the road. Yet again they have to be visible as well, but often the police like to hide behind signs, trees, stand in lay-bys etc. Then there's also roadside checks for vehicle insurance, road tax, and stuff. For any vehicles they do pull over, they then use this as an excuse to search the vehicle in the hope of finding something else like drugs or whatever.
For these type of situations there is no pre-defined warning as such from other drivers/riders, but I have been going down the road sometimes and all of a sudden vehicles on the opposite side start flashing their lights. I often mistake it for "get out the middle of the road" or "stop playing chicken with me" but there have been times when there has been something going on further up the road. I have had this on smaller roads as well as on the bigger main roads. But it very rarely happens in city's. It seems that it's more of a who gives a sh1t attitude in the city, everyone out for themselves on a battleground. I guess this is what happens when you have overcrowding. The suburbs and countryside are a lot more polite and friendly The further away from any major city's the better it gets.

(:-})