Biker wave etiquette.

[JeffD]

Heheheh the good ol' harley debate.  I heard that harleys..... Ok i wont go there.  But I did get some looks from the harley guys when I went in wearing all my gear and asking for carb jets.  The guy at the desk looked confused and he said for "what year,Bike?"  I said Suzuki and the look on his face. Muahahaha. (they use Mikuni carbs in buell bikes so I thought I would try)

[spaz]

bit long but great story

The Wave
By Tom Ruttan
CYCLE CANADA - APRIL 2002

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, 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
for 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 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'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 comer, 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 catalogue
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 towards 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?

Later 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 race track.
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."

[Casimir]

Good one Spaz. Another keeper.

[juggernaught]

Hell...just wave, nod, whatever floats yer boat and always within the realm of reason and safety.  It's funny because as a new rider the first time someone waved at me was a guy on a honda in my area as he passed.  Instinctively i waved back.  There was no thought involved in this.  Simply reflex.  Now how cool is that..??

[Phil]

I like the explanation of the wave that relates the two fingers (horizontal peace sign style) to the two wheels.  

[Fly Nena]

Took a long ride out highway two to index, northeast of Seattle toward Leavenworth, I was headed to the river for a dip and it was hot and gorgeous and there were a million bikers out there.
After reading this thread for a few days of course I was waving at everyone. All the guys on sportbikes either waved at me or at least nodded and the two-ups, they do, almost everyone does but, as always, there are those assholes, usually the chopper types, who won't acknowledge you, and it does hurt your feelings. It made me laugh this time :nana:
Whatever, I had such an amazing ride...Anyway, the assholes make you like the nice guys even more.
Becca

[tiedyeguy]

Spaz, amen!  And Becca, I'll be in seatle in Oct., taking a ride up pch on the new Bonnie, so idf ya need someone to take out your trash, pull a stripped stud, or rub your back , at least for a couple days, let me know! Well, maybe if ya just want to go for a ride then   .  What can i say, I'm a sucker for a manhater who rides.

[Rashad]

What can i say, I'm a sucker for a manhater who rides.

LMFAO!!!! :mrgreen:

Becca... im SO sorry, didnt mean to start this....

[scratch]

I find it very unnerving when a woman opens a door for me, I feel it's just not right, that it's my duty to open the door for Her.  I do not believe that chivalry is dead, and am all for womens rights and equality, just don't Buddha Loves You about it. (pun intended)

[Johnnyborracho]

As an owner of a Gs500 and an '81 Sportster, I get to throw in my two bits.  When I'm on the Gs500, folks on sport bikes return the wave (maybe), and sometimes somebody on a cruiser.  When I'm on the Harley, it's mixed results again.  Sometimes other Harley riders wave back, sometimes not.  Usually anybody on an older Harley will wave because they know the joys of trying to keep an AMF Harley DAvidson product on the road, while the newer bikes, well, they mainly over fifty and it's the first bike for them.  Give them time to discover there's more than the image.   Most of them have been dreaming about a bike for thirty years and never thought they could afford it. I guess it never occurred to them to go buy a used import.  By the way, riders on sport bikes never return the wave when I'm on my Sportster.

[Casimir]

From a coworker (in his 50s) who just bought his first Harley: "Harley designed the Sportster as a girl's bike." No wonder they don't wave to you.

Seriously, the Sportster is the only Harley I would even consider owning. That anniversary one in orange is pretty cool looking.

I'm just happy to be on a bike. I'll wave at anyone.

[Johnnyborracho]

Yeah, I get that one alot.  Usually to my back as I'm blowing the Big Twin slugs out of the water.

[Casimir]

When I told my wife that one of the HD models was a "Dyna Glide" she said it sounded like a feminine product applicator.

[CasiUSA]

I don't do the wave. I find the nod is a much better universal salutation. Ricers and Harleys alike always repond to the nod, at least in my experience.      

[Turkina]

Now that this topic is up on the board again...
Sometimes I don't wave or nod and then I chastise myself for not paying enough attention to my surroundings to know that there are motorcyclists coming my way!  Sometimes it's easy to notice too late on a divided highway, but it is a sure sign I'm not scanning like I should    Too many cars going in my direction to worry about

That said... I'll always wave if I see someone!

[crmeyer]

Its funny that most of you have problems with the Harley rides waving, being from Milwaukee you would think that it would be even worse 4 me.  But on the contrary, most of the riders in Milwaukee, rockets or Harleys, wave or nod at each other.  I did get some bad looks when the 100 anniversary was going on, but f*** them, they were probably from out of town.

[dmp221]

This way too analytical, overly intellectualized waving stuff cracks me up.
Just remember this:  Unless the waver is someone you know, and who recognizes you and your bike, the other person is not waving at YOU...they are waving at an image of something you represent (to them).
Proof?  On my commuting runs, I sometimes take the GS and sometimes my other bike, a V-Star (very cruiser looking bike, often mistaken for a Fat Boy)...guess how the waving behavior changes depending if I'm on the GS in a full face helmet and textile jacket vs. on the cruiser in leather jacket, open face helmet and jeans?....and the different behavior is from the very same people!!

[Cal Price]

Here it tends to be the nod first, laft hand wave is fine. Anything on two wheels. We used to have "thing" between Scooters and bikes (I crossed the line) but that is long gone, there are too few on two wheels to start subdividing.

[mp183]

As the weather gets colder I find that everyone waves.  Nothing brings out the camaraderie better than below freezing weather.

[dmp221]

As the weather gets colder I find that everyone waves.  Nothing brings out the camaraderie better than below freezing weather.

Rode the GS 50 miles each way to work out of town this morning.  AM temps just around freezing, return in afternoon a nice balmy 55 or so.

Saw 4 other riders all day.  2 sportbike, 2 cruisers.  100% wave participation.   All very enthusiastic, too (or, it could just be a hypothermia-induced shaking palsey.)  Great late Fall day to ride, here!