Two-Wheel Purgatory

I am engulfed in a cyclone of activity at a busy four-way intersection aboard my BMW FS650. There is a colorful pack of cyclists from Ontario balancing tenuously alongside the road, several cars, and my husband, on his BMW K100RS, is in the mix as well. I am a new rider and I’m hyper-focused on navigating this potential motorized minefield with the utmost care. Before I even have a chance to greet the cyclists, the buff alpha-male rider shouts out to me “taking the easy way out, eh?” and laughs. I may as well have saran wrap around my face for all the accessibility my very un-cool bowling ball of a helmet affords me. Alpha rider cannot hear my muffled declarations that “I am a serious cyclist, too!” and they cycle off, leaving me feeling like I’ve just landed in two-wheel purgatory.

I ride all kinds of bikes and I love them all. My first love is mountain biking, for it afforded me a second youth; my beloved road bike maintains that youth; and my newly acquired motorcycle guarantees that I’ll always be out on two wheels no matter what my age.What I don’t love is the feeling of cycle-schizophrenia I experience when I am on one bike excursion and I spot someone else enjoying another kind of bike outing. Just like siblings at play who covet each other’s toys, I instantly want to be doing that kind of bike ride, too. I think if there was some kind of signal or symbol with which I could convey my enthusiasm and mentally bond with that biker’s choice of wheels, it would make me feel a bit more contented on the road.

Aboard my motorcycle I am extraordinarily courteous to cyclists and always offer a ‘thumbs up’. Unfailingly, they look at me as if I just stepped up to the start line in leather; the greaser girl trying to sit at the cheerleader’s lunch table. On the flip side, when I am road cycling I always smile or give the wave to people on motorcycles. I learned about the wave during my safety course; some younger, hipper ladies filled me in. The wave is a left handed drop of the hand, palm out, lazy-styled peace sign. It is not that easy for me to do as a beginner because I’m covering the clutch like a kid with her hand stuck in a bowlful of candy. Only cool veterans are comfortable doing an unaffected version of the wave. But, it is an easy wave for cyclists to do, and I do it often. I mostly get a look from the motorcyclist that says “how stupid are you to be pedaling when you could be powering?” They make me feel like I’d opt for Pony Express mail delivery, too, if I could.

Only one really sharp group of motorcyclists has properly RSVPed me with the wave. As I was climbing Vermont’s famous ApGap on my bicycle, I looked up and saw a six-pack of Harley hogs in a pretty descent. I gave them the wave, there was a pause, and then all six of them gave me the wave in unison. It was a beautiful and satisfying moment on the road. It filled me with a sense of joy and support, and I didn’t feel so alone out there climbing the Gap solo.

As a rule, I’d vote the motorcycle riders most friendly, and I think I know why. Unlike people on bicycles, they don’t have a primal need to suffer, sweat or eat mud; they are, for the most part, a secure group of nice people. What’s not to like about zooming aboard a powerful two wheeler that doubles as a pretty nifty vibrator? (Did you know that forty-plus women are the fastest growing segment of the motorcycle market?) Nevertheless, they are generally friendly to riders aboard other motorcycles and not too snobby about gear, at least in passing. I’ve also noticed a tightening of the bond when bicycles are about— the motorcyclists will always close ranks. If they are really hot, and don’t feel threaten by your bike, they’ll pop a wheelie greeting which always makes me feel like a VIP member of the ‘hood.

Road cyclists are highly selective and have a built-in screening mechanism that dictates if a greeting will be forthcoming; it goes without saying that they only greet other road cyclists (maybe.) Not being greeted feels like a snub and pisses off other riders, reinforcing the snobby-cyclist stereotype which does nothing for our “share the road” campaigns. Another kind of rider is the experienced mountain biker traveling pavement to get to single tracked woods. Most mudders are not interested in etiquette, per se, of any sort, but can be disarmingly sweet and relatively responsible on the road, if they feel secure about their fitness. Many of them probably have motorcycles, too. It’s the weekend warriors you have to watch out for— they often feel the need to blow off stockpiled testosterone in many stupid ways. The third sector of riders, recreational twirlers on hybrids or recumbent bikes are egoless, super friendly, and deserve the respect of everyone.

So, back to my psycho-cross wheel problem: if the family of two-wheel sport cycling is to grow, a universal expression of affiliation to bond ourselves would be helpful. No one wants to feel alone or misunderstood on the road. It’s time to adopt a split-second hand symbol of acknowledgement that yes, indeed, we are all card-carrying cycling virtuosos, members of a unique group with unique talents (like the ability to bore non-riders in less than thirty seconds of conversation.)  Cyclinghood to flash whenever possible: we are one race, one sacred sport, the two wheelers of the world.

I propose we adopt simple sign language for anyone you meet on the road- flash them a hearty left handed peace sign and a big smile. And while you’re at it, pair it with a genuine vibe of goodwill for a safe ride.

Kim Dannies ©2008