Why Bikers wave...
#1
05-02-2008, 10:04 PM
Why Bikers wave...
This isn't my story i found it on another forum and thought it was awesome. When i first got my bike i wondered why people wave.
[size=2]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 travelled many backroads together...searching for the ones we had never found before. Travelling these roads just to see where they went. Never in a rush, just be home by supper.
I remember wandering down a backroad with my father, sitting on my throne watching the trees whiz by, feeling the rumble of our bike beneath us like a giant contented cat. A motorcycle came over a hill towards us and as it went by, my father threw up his clutch hand and gave a little wave. The other bike waved back with the same friendly swing of his left wrist.
I tapped my dad on the shoulder, which was our signal that I wanted to say something. He cocked his head back slightly while keeping his eyes ahead...
I yelled, "Did you know him?"
"What?"
"You waved at him...who was that?"
"I don't know. Just another guy on a bike....so I waved."
"How come?"
"You just do...it's important."
Later, when we had stopped for ice cream, I asked him why it was so important to wave to other bikers. My dad 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, wind, and drivers who didn't 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 of something. Afterwards, I always waved along with my dad whenever we passed other bikes.
I remember one cold October morning when the clouds were heavy and dark, giving us another clue that winter was heading in from just over the horizon. My dad and I were warm inside our car as we headed to a friends house. Rounding a corner, we saw a motorcycle parked on the shoulder of the road. Past the bike, we saw the rider walking thru the ditch, scouring along thru the tall grass, crowned with a touch of frost. Dad 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 thru the tall grass ditch to the biker. He said that he had been pulling on his gloves as he rode, and that he had lost one. The three of us spent some time combing the ditch, but all we found were empty cans and bottles.
My dad then turned and headed back to the car and opened the trunk. He rummaged thru various tools, oil containers, and this and that until he found an old pair of crumpled up leather gloves. He continued looking until he found an old catalogue. I understood what he was doing with the gloves....but I had no idea what he needed with the catalogue.
"Here's some gloves for you" my dad said as he handed them to the rider..."and I brought you a catalogue as well."
"Thanks"..I really appreciate it." He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out an old chain wallet.
"Lemme give you some money for the gloves" he said.
"No thanx" dad replied as he handed them to the rider. "They're not worth anything and they're old anyway".
The biker smiled. "Thanx alot."
He pulled the old gloves on and unzipped his jacket. I watched as my dad handed him the catalogue and the biker slipped it inside his coat. He jostled it around, positioning it up high, centered, and then zipped it up. I remembered now making sense of why my dad had given him the catalogue. It would keep him a bit warmer. After wishing the biker well, my dad 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 the address on the catalogue. Neither my father nor the biker seemed to think that my dad stopping at the side of the road for a stranger and giving him a pair of gloves, and that the stranger making sure that the gloves were returned, were events out of the ordinary for people who rode motorcycles. For me, it was another subtle lesson.
It was spring of the next year when I was sitting high on my throne, watching the farm fields slip by when I saw two bikes coming towards us. As they rumbled past, my dad 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 didn't they wave back? I thought all bikers waved at one another.....
I tapped my dad on the shoulder and yelled..."How come they didn't wave back?"
"Don't know. Sometimes they don't."
I remember feeling very puzzled. Why wouldn't someone wave back?
The next summer, I was finally old enough to learn to ride a motorcycle with a clutch. Many an afternoon were spent on a country lane beside our home, kicking and kicking to start my dad's old 1955 BSA. When it would finally come to a sputtering start, my concentration would grow to a sharp focus, as I tried to let out the clutch slowly enough, and bring us to a smooth take off. More often than not, I would lurch forward.....and begin to attempt to kickstart the motor again.
Eventually, I got my own motorcycle license, and began wandering the backroads on my own. I found myself stopping along sideroads if I saw another biker alone, just to check and see if he needed help.......and I continued to wave at other riders.
But I remained focused as to why some riders never waved back. It left me with almost a feeling of rejection, as if I were reaching to shake someones hand, but they kept their arm hanging by their side.
I began to canvass my friends about waving. I talked with people at biker events, asking what they thought. Most of the old riders told me they waved to other bikers and often initiated the friendly air handshake as they passed one another.
I did meet some riders tho, 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 rather colorful language, that he did not "wave to no wussies". 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 didn't 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, 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.
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 goes. 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 may not be able to describe what it means to feel the smooth acceleration and the st
[size=2]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 travelled many backroads together...searching for the ones we had never found before. Travelling these roads just to see where they went. Never in a rush, just be home by supper.
I remember wandering down a backroad with my father, sitting on my throne watching the trees whiz by, feeling the rumble of our bike beneath us like a giant contented cat. A motorcycle came over a hill towards us and as it went by, my father threw up his clutch hand and gave a little wave. The other bike waved back with the same friendly swing of his left wrist.
I tapped my dad on the shoulder, which was our signal that I wanted to say something. He cocked his head back slightly while keeping his eyes ahead...
I yelled, "Did you know him?"
"What?"
"You waved at him...who was that?"
"I don't know. Just another guy on a bike....so I waved."
"How come?"
"You just do...it's important."
Later, when we had stopped for ice cream, I asked him why it was so important to wave to other bikers. My dad 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, wind, and drivers who didn't 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 of something. Afterwards, I always waved along with my dad whenever we passed other bikes.
I remember one cold October morning when the clouds were heavy and dark, giving us another clue that winter was heading in from just over the horizon. My dad and I were warm inside our car as we headed to a friends house. Rounding a corner, we saw a motorcycle parked on the shoulder of the road. Past the bike, we saw the rider walking thru the ditch, scouring along thru the tall grass, crowned with a touch of frost. Dad 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 thru the tall grass ditch to the biker. He said that he had been pulling on his gloves as he rode, and that he had lost one. The three of us spent some time combing the ditch, but all we found were empty cans and bottles.
My dad then turned and headed back to the car and opened the trunk. He rummaged thru various tools, oil containers, and this and that until he found an old pair of crumpled up leather gloves. He continued looking until he found an old catalogue. I understood what he was doing with the gloves....but I had no idea what he needed with the catalogue.
"Here's some gloves for you" my dad said as he handed them to the rider..."and I brought you a catalogue as well."
"Thanks"..I really appreciate it." He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out an old chain wallet.
"Lemme give you some money for the gloves" he said.
"No thanx" dad replied as he handed them to the rider. "They're not worth anything and they're old anyway".
The biker smiled. "Thanx alot."
He pulled the old gloves on and unzipped his jacket. I watched as my dad handed him the catalogue and the biker slipped it inside his coat. He jostled it around, positioning it up high, centered, and then zipped it up. I remembered now making sense of why my dad had given him the catalogue. It would keep him a bit warmer. After wishing the biker well, my dad 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 the address on the catalogue. Neither my father nor the biker seemed to think that my dad stopping at the side of the road for a stranger and giving him a pair of gloves, and that the stranger making sure that the gloves were returned, were events out of the ordinary for people who rode motorcycles. For me, it was another subtle lesson.
It was spring of the next year when I was sitting high on my throne, watching the farm fields slip by when I saw two bikes coming towards us. As they rumbled past, my dad 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 didn't they wave back? I thought all bikers waved at one another.....
I tapped my dad on the shoulder and yelled..."How come they didn't wave back?"
"Don't know. Sometimes they don't."
I remember feeling very puzzled. Why wouldn't someone wave back?
The next summer, I was finally old enough to learn to ride a motorcycle with a clutch. Many an afternoon were spent on a country lane beside our home, kicking and kicking to start my dad's old 1955 BSA. When it would finally come to a sputtering start, my concentration would grow to a sharp focus, as I tried to let out the clutch slowly enough, and bring us to a smooth take off. More often than not, I would lurch forward.....and begin to attempt to kickstart the motor again.
Eventually, I got my own motorcycle license, and began wandering the backroads on my own. I found myself stopping along sideroads if I saw another biker alone, just to check and see if he needed help.......and I continued to wave at other riders.
But I remained focused as to why some riders never waved back. It left me with almost a feeling of rejection, as if I were reaching to shake someones hand, but they kept their arm hanging by their side.
I began to canvass my friends about waving. I talked with people at biker events, asking what they thought. Most of the old riders told me they waved to other bikers and often initiated the friendly air handshake as they passed one another.
I did meet some riders tho, 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 rather colorful language, that he did not "wave to no wussies". 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 didn't 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, 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.
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 goes. 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 may not be able to describe what it means to feel the smooth acceleration and the st
#2
05-02-2008, 11:34 PM
RE: Why Bikers wave...
Reminds me of when I was a kid...
When I was 10, my Dad took me on a trip from Idaho, up into Canada, then we we gonna come back down the coast to where we lived in SoCal. Unfortunately, we got into a pretty good accident in Canada which put me in the hospital for a month. During that time, I had many visitors that I'd never met, they brought me gifts, they kept my parents company, and offered my folks a place to stay while I was still in the hospital. They'd all read about a motorcycle crash, and had come to the aid of total strangers.
Over 20 years later, I finally got into riding and was somehow still completely surprised by the commaraderie. I've done my share of helping fellow riders out, visiting hospitals and have been helped out myself. I always give "the wave" (and sometimes "teh tap" if it applies), don't care who it is.
Somewhere in a bookshelf, I still have a Battlestar Gallactica book, signed by some guy in Canada - who knows, maybe I've waved at him...
PS - Battlestar Gallactica kicked ***!!!
When I was 10, my Dad took me on a trip from Idaho, up into Canada, then we we gonna come back down the coast to where we lived in SoCal. Unfortunately, we got into a pretty good accident in Canada which put me in the hospital for a month. During that time, I had many visitors that I'd never met, they brought me gifts, they kept my parents company, and offered my folks a place to stay while I was still in the hospital. They'd all read about a motorcycle crash, and had come to the aid of total strangers.
Over 20 years later, I finally got into riding and was somehow still completely surprised by the commaraderie. I've done my share of helping fellow riders out, visiting hospitals and have been helped out myself. I always give "the wave" (and sometimes "teh tap" if it applies), don't care who it is.
Somewhere in a bookshelf, I still have a Battlestar Gallactica book, signed by some guy in Canada - who knows, maybe I've waved at him...
PS - Battlestar Gallactica kicked ***!!!
#5
05-04-2008, 07:14 AM
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: Ft. Gordon (Augusta) GA
Posts: 8,268
RE: Why Bikers wave...
Yeah, me too. I notice a lot of the Harley guys don't. That's one thing I can say for my parents... even though they ride Harleys, I've never seen them miss an opportunity to wave.
#6
05-04-2008, 01:44 PM
RE: Why Bikers wave...
You know i always give a wave. I ridea Harley andmy ZX7R. It does not matter what Im on. I think it is the knowing we are all riding because we love the freedom. Thats what i get out of it. Being free, out on the rodes, with my son who is 16 and rides a GSXR 600. We have spent allot of quality time together riding now and he sees the waves and gives them back. Theres nothing better feeling than seeing him behind me. my .2
#7
05-05-2008, 12:21 AM
RE: Why Bikers wave...
This year I've noticed more Harley's wave first, if not I'll be the first to throw the low 2! Because that's how I roll..haha
#9
05-05-2008, 02:17 PM
Join Date: Nov 2005
Location: Washington
Posts: 21,060
RE: Why Bikers wave...
There is a special feeling when another rider waves back, and that feeling is magnified when someone waves back on a bike that is not like yours, perhaps the unexpected wave is the best one. I get waves from choppers, big cruisers, crotch rockets, the DS bikes and even scooters. Oh sure once in a while I don't get the wave, but actually we all probably have been riding and waited for the other guy to wave first only to realize that he may be doing the same thing. I wonder how many guys have both been waiting for the other to wave first as to not be left hanging with out the wave only to both miss out on this connection. Well for me it means hello how are you nice to see you out, and stay safe all in that simple hand gesture. Cool article, thanks for sharing it with all of us, and who knows maybenext time your out there just remember maybe the guy coming up towards you just might be waiting for you to wave first, and so let's be the first one.
http://www.redztread.com/roadrash/wave/
http://www.redztread.com/roadrash/wave/
#10
05-05-2008, 02:20 PM
Join Date: Nov 2005
Location: Washington
Posts: 21,060
RE: Why Bikers wave...
Oh and this was already posted, just do a search and put in Waving and it came up with all kinds of stuff that has been discussed here. The search feature is how I find my own stuff when I can't remember what section or when it was posted.
From 6/8/2007
https://www.kawasakiforums.com/m_146365/tm.htm
From 6/8/2007
https://www.kawasakiforums.com/m_146365/tm.htm