The biker's salute

As many of you know, I have started riding a motorcycle around town on nice days. My dad taught me toward the end of the season last year, and I got my license just in time for the cold weather to hit. So this spring/summer, I have been livin' it up on my (Dad's) tiny Honda Rebel, which is pretty much the cutest little motorcyle anyone has ever seen.

I like it. I enjoy the free feeling, the wind blowing past, the sun on my back. I loved the looks on my coworkers' faces the first time I walked into the office carrying a motorcyle helmet. Defying expectations is always satisfying. I am a huge fan of the gas mileage. Saving money was the original point of learning to ride. And I love having one more thing on my "list of things I can do." I can ride a motorcyle. What can you do?

And I'll admit it: I like feeling cool. When I'm riding the motorcycle, I am so. freaking. cool.

But none of those things are my favorite part.

My favorite part is something I have dubbed "the biker's salute." At least, that's what I started calling it, and, after some research, I learned that other people call it that, too.

When I was first learning, riding just a bit in front of my dad on some Allegan County back roads, from the opposite direction came another biker. I felt this innate need to reach out and wave, and just as I started to do so, he stuck out his arm, two fingers out, and acknowledged us first. It surprised me, and I thought, "Hmm, I wonder if this is a thing."

Turns out, it totally is a thing.

I have crossed the paths of very few bikers on the road who don't acknowledge me in some way. It gives me a tiny thrill every time I'm on my bike and I see another one coming, partly because I'm ridiculous. I love sticking out my hand and seeing it offered in return as we pass.

It's a salute. It's a friendly gesture. It's a way of saying, "Hey, you're in the club. Nice to see you."  Just by starting up my little 250 cc bike and getting out on the open road, I have gained admittance into a club I didn't even know existed.

My dad never told me about this sense of comradery shared between motorcylists ... probably because he doesn't really think about it and, to be fair, he's not quite as sentimental as I am. But the fact is, at least on the road, it's there. And we have a sign of solidarity, a way of acknowledging each other's presence, and gesture that says, "Hey there, fellow risk-taker. We're in this together."

It's what I call the biker's salute, and it's my favorite part.

But just to be clear, my second-favorite part definitely is being so. freaking. cool.