05-24-2017, 02:21 PM
Motorcyclists saluting each other with the peace sign (two-fingered V) started here in the 1960s during the flower power era. There were far fewer bikers and a lot less traffic. Motorcyclists always considered themselves part of a brotherhood. Which was great as motorcycles were not as reliable then. So stopping to help a brother at the side of the road was routine.
Fast forward half a century. Now there are lots of motorcyclists and horrible traffic with impatient and distracted drivers. I do not wave in those situations. I keep my hands on the bars and my eyes on the traffic.
When I ride on the back roads during on weekdays, the roads are quiet as there are few bikers and very little traffic except for locals in their pick-up trucks. I wave to fellow bikers, unless we are both hard over sweeping through a corner. Hands on the bars, eyes on the road. A quick nod will suffice.
The only time I find it tiresome is when I meet an oncoming cruiser club. That is usually on a weekend following a week of poor weather. I just have to get out there. I salute first couple of riders, and get back to the business at hand.
Lately I have noticed pick-up trucks flashing their headlamps at me. That use to be a warning of a police car in the vicinity, but I have yet to see one. So either my headlight need adjusting, or these are working bikers trapped in steel and glass wishing they were me.
Fast forward half a century. Now there are lots of motorcyclists and horrible traffic with impatient and distracted drivers. I do not wave in those situations. I keep my hands on the bars and my eyes on the traffic.
When I ride on the back roads during on weekdays, the roads are quiet as there are few bikers and very little traffic except for locals in their pick-up trucks. I wave to fellow bikers, unless we are both hard over sweeping through a corner. Hands on the bars, eyes on the road. A quick nod will suffice.
The only time I find it tiresome is when I meet an oncoming cruiser club. That is usually on a weekend following a week of poor weather. I just have to get out there. I salute first couple of riders, and get back to the business at hand.
Lately I have noticed pick-up trucks flashing their headlamps at me. That use to be a warning of a police car in the vicinity, but I have yet to see one. So either my headlight need adjusting, or these are working bikers trapped in steel and glass wishing they were me.