A few years ago I rode about an
hour south of my home to meet up with a friend who had just bought his first
bike. It was a black Hayabusa. It was brand new, showroom shiny, and ready to
go. We set off down the road. He was in front and to the left of the lane,
and I was behind him to the right. I
didn’t know my way around, and he knew where he was going, so I let him
lead. It was a sunny Florida
day, just gorgeous without a cloud in the sky, so there were lots of other
bikers out on the road.
Now, I haven’t been many other
places (yet), but here in Florida ,
if a biker passes another biker on the road, we signal each other. A kind of peace sign you make with your left
hand, but pointed at the ground. Every
time we passed another rider or group of bikes, I’d drop that left hand and
they would drop it back. Just a friendly
hello, a sign of mutual understanding. A
small token of respect for the only people who really “get” you. There were so many riders out enjoying the
weather, and we cruised happily along, and so did they.
My friend and I came to a stop at a
red light. He looked down at his bike,
examining it. ‘Yes, it’s shiny and new
and gorgeous.’ I thought. At the next
light, we caught the red again. Again,
he was looking down at his bike. Was his
chain loose? Was he looking for the idle
adjustment? I looked at him and cocked
my head as if to ask “What?” He shrugged
and shook his head and the light turned green, so off we went. This happened again at the next light, and the
next.
Finally, we reached our
destination, and he got off the bike, put the kickstand down, and knelt beside it,
just staring at it, puzzled. He started
checking the tires, looking at the chain…
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Trying to figure out what’s wrong
with my bike.” he replied.
“Why? Is it making a strange sound? Is it riding funny?”
“No,” he said, “But every single
biker we passed kept pointing at the bottom of my bike!”
I laughed and explained the ‘hand’
to him. Welcome to the club, bro J
People who are passionate about
motorcycles are their own breed. We are
thrill seekers. Whether we require the
adrenaline rush of being on one wheel or prefer the exhilaration of cresting a
mountain ridge and absorbing the breathtaking view; whether we enjoy flying as
fast as our machines will take us, or are addicted to swaying deep into those sharp
curves; we get each other. We’re on a whole different plane of
existence. We’re just a little different
than everyone else, and only we really understand.
Whenever I’m driving in my car (a
necessary evil, at times) and I see a group of motorcyclists, I can’t help but
wish that I were on my bike, too, so I could give them the hand and see them
give it right back. We would both go on
our merry ways, enjoying the beautiful day and the wind at our backs. Taking in the sun and taking over the
pavement one mile at a time.
I was riding the bike just last
week and in the opposite lane there was a silver fox-body Mustang. It was gorgeous, obviously well taken care
of, and it sounded amazing as it drove by.
Just before it passed me, the driver dropped that left hand out the
window at me. Realizing his mistake, he
retracted it hastily, embarrassed. He
waved at me, and I nodded at him, just smiling inside my helmet. ‘He gets it,’ I thought. I wondered what kind of bike he must
have. It started me thinking about the
hand drop, and its significance. It was
the inspiration for this article.
As cheesy as it may sound, really
loving motorcycles is like being in a club.
The hand lets you know that you are part of something bigger than
yourself. A passion that has captured billions of people. You know as well as the rest of us that once
it has you, it doesn’t let go. So to all
of you who are in the club, to all of you who are just like me (in that way), I
give you a great big……hand.
How’s that for cheesy? J
