I feel left out, alienated and not part of the pack. I was totally in the dark - clueless and oblivious to this connection. There's an entire culture out there that I knew nothing about. Till yesterday. You've all seen them roaring by on their big shiny machines, hair flying in the breeze, leather jackets rippling, hands high in the air on the handlebars. Doesn't that position get uncomfortable after awhile?
The sound - very distinct and hard to replicate the sound with words. Sometimes they ride together in packs - sometimes they cruise as a loner or perhaps a rebel. The black jackets, t-shirt with skulls, skullcaps, tattoos, black boots and mirrored sunglasses. Yes, I'm stereotyping.
Yesterday on the way to the Swamp Fest I witnessed a migration of bikers. Who else would attend a Swamp Fest? To be honest - I was on the way back from the Strawberry Fest when I saw the - Swamp Fest Signs. I was curious so I followed the signs. Into the back roads, past the bogs, sour smelling marshes, down narrow dirt roads into Florida's soul and backbone.
I watched the bikers and they had this wave yet not a wave every time another biker passed them. I was amazed. They have their very own communication. It was a low wave with a twist and sometimes different finger moves. I believe the finger movement depended on what type of hog you were riding on. It was like watching a conversation with a mime.
I don't know what they were saying. It's all part of a secret code, culture related and known only to them. I guess I will have to get a bike and ride with the gang to find out the secret codes. No longer will I feel clueless and an outsider.