thoughts from the back of the bike
So it was a sunny day - the first in a looooong time - so Gus and I went riding. To be specific, Gus drove and I sat on the back of the big black BMW, doing my best to move with the machine. It's gotten easier; I've figured out that there's no way for me just to accidentally fall off, so I can relax with it.
We rode up the "secret freeway" and then took side streets to the south West Seattle neighborhood, where I hadn't been before. The houses were mostly small, and since West Seattle is all hills, there were no flat yards to be seen. I kept being reminded of older neighborhoods in southern California and especially San Diego. The resemblance to San Diego increased as we got closer to the water, but the community retained a not-So-Cal feel to it that went beyond the siding (instead of stucco) and Pacific Northwest vegetation (instead of palms and eucalyptus). I can't put my finger on it, but it felt like Old Seattle for sure.
We didn't really do anything special in West Seattle. We rode along Alki Beach, stopped for coffee and a snickerdoodle at the Alki Bakery, and sat looking at ferries and odd dogs on Alki Point. It was a beautiful day, and lots of people were out.
I noticed several old cars on the road. The drivers were invariably men of a certain age who seemed to be taking an old-fashioned Sunday drive, partly to enjoy the weather and partly to show off their (admittedly beautiful and well-loved) classic cars.
Another thing that I noticed, and have noticed ever since Gus first put me on the bike, was the universal acknowledgement of one biker to another that occurs when two motorcycles pass in opposite directions. The acknowledgement is either a nod of the helmet or, more often, a sideways motion of the left hand - not a real wave; that wouldn't be in keeping with protocol - but sort of a sidelong peace sign or high five (low five?). It's very subtle. It says, "Hey."
It reminds me of the Zulu greeting that I learned when I was in South Africa. In the Zulu language, you don't say "good morning" or "hello." You say, "I see you."
What's nice about it for me is that it's an acknowledgement of the commonalities that bikers have with one another. That guy on the Kawasaki might be a real jerk in real life, but he wears a helmet and contends with the same dangers that other bikers do. Therefore, on some level, he's "one of ours" in spite of his faults.
It's encouraging to think that I might be considered "one of ours" in spite of my faults, too.