I'm a biker. Actually, to avoid confusion let's say that I'm a cyclist. It is a time-honored tradition that when two bikers (motorcyclists) pass each other they give the Bikers Wave, two wheels down, similar to an inverted peace sign and pictured above. Growing up in the Ogden area it was not uncommon for me to receive the wave while I was cycling (from both bikers and cyclists). As I matured the event became so commonplace that as I passed anyone on two wheels there was an exchange of waves.
It's one of those minute things in life that you grow to love. Every time I gave and got the bikers wave I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself, some sort of elite club of non-automotive travelers. My dad has even commented that at times he'll get the wave while he's out jogging. Whenever I see a cyclist my hand instinctively drops to my side, like a signal between family.
Somehow, however, Logan Utah has never gotten the memo about the bikers wave. For whatever reason the wave doesn't seem to include cyclists here in Cache Valley; ironic to me, considering that Logan is such a heavily biker-populated community. Every day riding to work I pass dozens of cyclists and my hand merely dangles lifeless at my side in unanswered sadness. If I'm lucky my wave is reciprocated by the Frat Boy Head Nod; which is totally lame, at best.
Wake up Logan. There's a whole world of comradery knocking at your door. We are bikers. We are fit. Share the road. Wave back!