The People Who Wave

Life in the Bike Lane

Tom Frady

You may already be a member of the club.

It has no dues, meetings, secret handshake and no special parking privileges. The only requirement is that you occasionally wave at a complete stranger for no apparent reason while on your bike.

If you are one of the six or seven loyal members of the Bike Lane Army (BLA) you already know I spend a fair amount of time riding around this part of Placer County. If there is one thing I have learned from all those miles, it is that waving has guidelines.

They’re not written down.  We just know them.

Cyclists are at the top of the waving hierarchy. It doesn't matter if we have never met.  We are cyclists. That is enough.

When cyclists approach each other on the road, there is usually some form of recognition. A raised hand. Two fingers lifted from the handlebars. A little nod.

My favorite is a semi-secret “Keep the rubber side down” signal borrowed from motorcyclists.  It is simply casual pointing to the ground with the left hand.

A cyclist coming toward me on a $10,000 carbon-fiber bicycle, wearing a team kit and looking like he is training for The Tour, will usually get a wave, albeit they are often checking their training metrics and may not see it.

So will the guy on a 20-year-old bike wearing a T-shirt and carrying a water bottle in his back pocket.

The riders on step-thru e-bikes are often concentrating so hard on the road ahead, they miss my salutation.  But I will continue to acknowledge them.

I’m not sure what to say about the growing group of youngsters on e-bikes.  They’re not paying enough attention to me – or anything – to respond, however, as I type this it strikes me that maybe some recognition from some “fellow riders” might foster some positive behavior change.  (This may be a topic for a future column).

Runners are next in the hierarchy.

I try to wave at runners, but this can be tricky. A runner coming toward me on a country road is moving slowly enough for me to recognize him but fast enough that I have only about three seconds to decide whether I should wave.  I find most runners are wearing ear buds and can’t hear a greeting or are concentrating on their breathing so much they don’t notice me.

(Wait.  Are they INTENTIONALLY ignoring me?)

By the time I make the decision, I have usually passed him.

I always wave at the dog person, but I keep an eye on the dog.

Some dogs barely notice me. Others seem to regard my bicycle as an invasion of their personal space. I always say something nice to the dog, like “Hey, Big Dog” even to the smallest example of K-9ness.

Then there are neighbors.

Neighborhood waving has its own rules. If someone is walking toward you, you wave. If they are driving, you wave (maybe just to be sure they see you).

And if someone waves first, you must wave back.

This is not optional.

There is something wonderful and wonderfully silly about waving at people you don't know.

For a few seconds, the cyclist, runner, dog walker and neighbor aren't strangers anymore. We are members of the same little community passing through the same piece of the world.

Maybe that's why I notice it so much on the backroads around Lincoln. Out there, you can ride for miles without seeing any people. Then a cyclist appears around a corner, or a runner comes down the road, and suddenly there is a little human connection.

Two fingers off the handlebars.  A nod.  A smile.

Gone in three seconds.

But somehow it matters.

Mrs. Bike Lane would probably say I am overthinking this. She has been known to point out that I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about bicycles, roads, mileage and weather.

She might have a point.

But I still think there is something positive about the acknowledgement of neighbors and strangers.

So, if you see me riding around Lincoln, go ahead and wave.

I'll wave back.