I still remember the day that it happened. 

 I was out enjoying a ride on a day bathed in the warm orange and red hues of fall. Then, as I was looking down the road while another motorcyclist rode by, it happened. The motorcyclist startled me with a hand gesture and before I began to understand what had happened another motorcyclist rode by and gave me the same gesture leaving me confused.

"What is this about? Do I know them? Was I supposed to return the gesture? Did I do something wrong?" 

I miss the earlier days of motorcycle riding, the days when bikers weren't waving at each other. I can't remember if riders didn't have to wave at each other years ago or if it was that there were just so few of us riders that we just didn't need to wave very much.

 Maybe this is why many riders buy motorcycles that look like they are from the past; they are reminiscing about a different time, a time without waving. But time marches on so I decide that I need to move on and join the waving craze. 

To avoid looking like a novice I stop at the library but come up empty. Keith Code is currently working on a motorcycle waving technique book called A Flick of the Wrist but since the book hasn't yet been published I start practicing my wave by sitting on a chair in front of a mirror. 

 Once comfortable, I move up to practicing while sitting on my bike and a few days later I make my public waving debut while at the grocery store. I see a guy pushing a shopping cart similar to mine so I wave, not a full force wave, just a gliding wave of my hand along with a head bob to show that we are brothers united in cruising the cereal aisle. A glance of disgusting indifference is shot back at me. Maybe it is the generic rice cereal in my cart or the imported cashews or maybe it is the wrong brand of toilet paper; some people just don't like certain grains, imports, or brands and will hold it against others. I consider it a minor setback and although my technique still needs work winter is fast approaching and there is no more time to practice. I rush home to my motorcycle. 

I ride off in search of other motorcycles and when other motorcyclists rides by I can't control my excitement as I wave furiously with my hand flailing like a leaf in a hurricane. They just turn their heads and stare at me. After a couple of hours my excitement has died down, my joining the brotherhood is a failure, few people have waved back. I've grown tired from the weight of a fading dream and as another motorcycle rides by I can only muster the strength to raise a couple of fingers up off of my left handgrip. And they wave back. THEY WAVE BACK! Finally other motorcyclists are waving back. 

I now have a technique that works and now I have to figure out who I should wave to? Motorcycles of course but what about mopeds? They are miniature motorcycles. What about Trikes and those three wheeled things? One end looks like a motorcycle. And motorized bicycles? That's what an early motorcycle was. What about plain old bicycles, the great grandfather of motorcycles? They are all out enjoying similar experiences to riding a motorcycle so I wave at all of them. We all have something in common. And then a mini-van drives by. I own a minivan too so I wave to her but can't tell if she waved back. 

I don't want to be the unfriendly biker who doesn't wave so I continue to wave, I wave at everyone but not everyone waves back. Cars drivers and bicyclists never see me, children on bikes or in strollers always see me and wave back, but only some motorcyclists wave back. Some riders only wave to riders on similar bikes. Except Goldwings, Goldwing folks are a whole different breed and are happy to wave at everyone and I suppose that happens when you have the joys of a motorcycle combined with the comfort of a car. 

But I'm not happy. As my day of riding has progressed I've missed many of the sensations that make riding enjoyable: feeling the motorcycle buzz as the tach needle moves, smelling flowers, rain, and cut grass, watching the world roll by on a screen bigger and better than any Omni theater. Instead of enjoying all these sensations I'm scanning the road for the next person to wave to and in that sense my day has been a great success as I've mastered the wave and have waved to everyone that has passes by. 

With my waving accomplishment and the early twilight of fall at hand I turn for home. As I round a corner at a hurried pace there is a car stopping in the road in front of me. The car is waiting to turn, waiting because of an approaching train of motorcycles who all start waving at me. As I quickly close in on the wall of Detroit steel blocking the road there isn't time to panic only time to focus on the tasks at hand.

 Hit the brakes hard and: clutch in, throttle blip, shift, clutch out, wave,

clutch in, throttle blip, shift, clutch out, wave,

clutch in, throttle blip, shift, clutch out, wave,

clutch in, throttle blip, shift, clutch out, wave,

clutch in, throttle blip, shift, clutch out, wave, clutch in, all while the front tires is looking like a ripe tomato about to burst under foot and the rear tire lightly snakes a thin black line across the tar.

 I stop within a foot of the car bumper but I did it, I waved at everyone who had ridden by and I was steaming mad. 

I was mad because I knew I wouldn't be doing much waving if I broke both my arms flying Superman style into the back of that stopped car. I came close to crashing my motorcycle into a car because I was busy waving to other motorcycles. 

So I have to wave goodbye to waving. I am going back to what riding a motorcycle means to me, enjoying the ride. So don't feel offended if you ride by and I don't wave. I won't wave back. Okay, maybe just a little wave.

(this is not an original work by me, just something I found on facebook that I wanted to keep alive and not lose in the constant churn) Kudo's to the original author whoever that may be!