In Da Club

January 23, 2013

Oh, today was a banner day! Is that a cliche? It is, so I'll work with it. Today, this is what my banner reads:

I got my first wave!

I bet that doesn't mean much to anyone who drives a car. Waving is what bikers do when they see each other on the road. It's comaderie. It means: You're in the club. I've observed this club and tangentially been a part of it on the back of my husband's Hawg. But today, I was in the thick of it. Some guy rode in the opposite lane and passed me on his metric bike, and he waved. And, tooling along Glendale Ave. at five miles below the speed limit, I saw his wave, and I waved back. It was that simple. And that meaningful. I was inducted.

Riding on the back of Virgil's Road King for three years has allowed me to witness what comprises this club. Essentially, it includes everyone on a motorcycle, which makes it the most inclusive club ever. I marveled at that inclusivity from the back of the seat, and now I'm a full-fledged member. In this club, you can wear a helmet or not. You can ride a Harley or a Honda. You can ride a touring bike or whizz by on a crotch rocket. You can wear body armor or a halter top. It doesn't matter. That members prize individuality is clear, and it may be the only club wherein judgment is suspended. For a moment, two motorcycle drivers see each other, and each one casually moves his hand, sometimes barely lifting three fingers from the throttle. Sometimes, acknowledgement comes with the nod of a head or a helmet. With either motion, membership is acknowledged. I admit that I haven't yet seen a Hell's Angel greet anyone with a gregarious wave, but I haven't yet seen a Hell's Angel pass me when I'm driving my Hawg. It might just happen.

What startles me most about this club is that for twenty-five plus years, I have driven around in a car through more than half of our United States, and I never once noticed motorcyclists exchanging greeting with each other. This club exists in the same sphere as cars and trucks do, and yet it's in entirely separate space. This club has no president or vice president, and the club house is defined by moving space and wheels. But once you get the first wave, you belong. And today, I accepted my membership.