I found this cached on google (STLToday.com charges for anything over a week old). Since I'm not sure that Google Cached URLs are transferable here is the text:
Strangers employ ritual language to note something in common
BY JEFF DANIEL
Of the Post-Dispatch
03/13/2004
When driving around town in his Toyota Prius, Bruce Kessel knows exactly what to do after spotting a fellow owner of the gas-electric hybrid car - give 'em the old "nod and wave."
"It's like if you went overseas to a foreign land, then stumbled across another American," says Kessel, a local computer consultant. "You're kind of like 'Wow, I've found somebody.' "
So when Prius meets Prius, Kessel unleashes a smile and offers up an I-know-where-you're-coming-from gesture. He expects one in return and usually gets it. Unlike comedian Larry David, who saw his Prius wave go unanswered - much to his dismay - in a recent episode of the HBO series "Curb Your Enthusiasm."
Two strangers sharing a special moment might seem a coup these days, what with social science experts never failing to mention that we live in an increasingly impersonal society. As Harvard professor Robert Putnam pointed out in his 2000 book "Bowling Alone," disengagement and fragmentation have become the norm. This is the age of Internet anonymity and the vast disconnect. This is an era in which we rarely know the neighbors on our block - and if we did, who in the name of "CSI" is to say that they aren't maniacal serial killers?
Connecting with outsiders, it seems, isn't exactly a walk in the park.
But it can be a drive, as Kessel and his Prius pals have discovered. They nod. They smile. They wave - then carry on, all the while knowing they've made eye contact with someone sharing a mutual experience, or perhaps a similar world view. It's not just the Prius that leads to such connections, as similar tales come from owners of other unique vehicles out there on the road: the Honda Insight and the Element; the VW Beetle; the MINI. Then there's the Hummer, the anti-hybrid behemoth that stands out in any crowded traffic jam. In all cases, giving the wave is something of a ritual.
It's a ritual, however, that goes well beyond car culture. Michael Miles will testify to that - as will Honeypie, his American Pit Bull Terrier.
On their daily walks around Maplewood, Miles and his best friend will occasionally pass a similar duo. The total strangers reflexively give the knowing nod, the one that silently says "Yes, there's another member of the family who appreciates a widely misunderstood breed."
"Oh, I get that all the time," says Miles, a local photographer. "It's pretty amazing how many strangers wave, not to mention how many stop me." Just days earlier, a woman stopped Miles to tell him she'd been admiring Honeypie from afar for quite a while. It didn't surprise Miles to learn that his new acquaintance had been around similar dogs most of her life.
It also didn't surprise him that the nod and wave lead to the more substantial "stop and chat" (a phrase coined by none other than Larry David). According to Miles, this can work in a couple of directions: meeting people he has much in common with, or making acquaintances with those he'd never, ever meet if not for the breed of his dog. Whichever the case, going beyond the bonding wave sometimes becomes a bit too much for Miles.
"You know, I occasionally consider it an interruption because I might be pressed for time," he says. "People get bold and maybe think there's a larger bond there than really does exist. But I understand where they're coming from. There is that common thread - and it almost always makes me smile."
Mary Meehan of University City doesn't know much about terriers, but she does know a thing or two about twins. She and her husband Kevin have a 5-year-old set, and the girls have been the source of many a nod and wave moment. When her twins were younger, Meehan encountered such moments several times a month. The double-wide stroller was the first signal that a stranger with a shared experience was heading her way.
"It would definitely make me look twice," she says. "Sometimes people would approach me, or sometimes I'd be the first one to give a friendly wave." Even the simple act of buying outfits for the girls leads Meehan into discussions with strangers who sense a common bond. "The response is often 'Oh, do you have twins?' " she says with a laugh. "And then they say that they have twins, a friend has twins, a family member has twins. It goes from there."
As for the nod and wave, Meehan says she doesn't get it quite as often now that her non-identical twins have gotten older. But when it does still happen, the act usually morphs into the stop and chat - which Meehan views as a kind of common courtesy.
"If I see someone and they have twins who are quite young, I might augment my nod and wave with a little encouragement," she says. "I simply tell them not to worry, that things only get easier. Then I tell them 'I know what you're going through.' "
It's that same "I know what you're going through" ethos that underpins many of the nod and wave moments that occur between total strangers on a daily basis. One of those is the runner's wave, the subtle raising of the hand - most often the left - shared by the hard-core pavement pounders who glide around the area's streets and trails. You might share the runner's wave with a stranger for years and never get beyond that point. After all, the stop and chat doesn't quite jibe with a 7-minute mile pace.
"I've never really thought much about it, but I guess there is kind of a ritualistic wave," says Doug Pohlman from behind the counter at The Running Center store in Rock Hill. A respected local runner and triathlete, Pohlman adds that the nod and wave comes into play even more so in his biking activities - an exercise regimen fraught with dangers ranging from sore glutes to sore-headed drivers.
"You might not know the biker you pass, but you give 'em a been-there-done-that kind of nod," he says. Fellow Running Center employee and triathlete Mark Gowler concurs: "With the helmets and the glasses, you really can't tell who the other person is," adds Gowler. "But the connection is there. You give that little nod, the one that says that there aren't many of us out here."
When it comes to the roadways, bicyclists are most definitely in the minority. The nod and wave, as Gowler points out, serves as an act of mutual assurance. But what about when that minority status is one of race or ethnicity? Is there some similar nod and wave ritual that takes place between total strangers? An informal poll leads to one conclusion - a resounding yes.
Anthony Tinsley, 29, can tell you about the nod. Growing up in Jefferson City, he was part of the African-American minority in that mid-Missouri town. He then spent several years in California, where he often found himself in an environment with a Hispanic majority. Without consciously thinking about it, Tinsley says, he often found himself giving the nod when coming across another African-American.
"It depends on the situation, or perhaps the culture and state of mind of the location," says Tinsley, who now lives in St. Charles. "In California, I'd go a while sometimes without seeing another black person, so when you do run across one you give 'em the nod or the wave - kind of a 'What's Up?' You might be feeling a bit uncomfortable, and this lets you know you're not alone in the universe."
Tinsley is quick to point out that there's nothing mean or exclusive intended by the gesture, one that he describes as an act of reassurance. He also adds that this is the first time he's ever discussed the practice. "I guess it's just kind of an understood thing," he says.
By chance, La'Kisha Mayes of St. Louis discussed the ritual for the first time just weeks ago. After she and a group of friends stopped in a small, rural town on the way to Chicago, they saw another group of African-American travelers and immediately struck up a conversation. Back in the car and back on the road, Mayes and her friends - in a moment of synchronicity - all began to comment on the practice of the nod and wave (which in that case turned into the stop and chat).
"I'd never really thought about it before, but I guess it's always been there," says Mayes, 29. "Just kind of a 'Hey, how's it going? Is everything OK?' kind of gesture. It's not like something that's taught or passed down. It just naturally happens. It's a way to identify with a stranger."
On a less serious note, Tinsley remembers being the recipient of a different kind of nod and wave moment in his younger days.
"My dad had this Corvette, and when I drove it people started honking and waving at me," he says with a laugh. It took the young driver a while to figure out that the strange greetings came from fellow Corvette car enthusiasts.
Corvette. Prius. Hummer. All extra-ordinary vehicles, all in their own way helping to subvert an increasingly impersonal society. Bob Davis, secretary of the national Hummer club that includes the St. Louis region, says there is "a brotherhood that comes about when you see people who you have something in common with. It just adds a little something to your day when people wave at you."
But Davis is the first to concede that the ol' nod and wave doesn't always come with the same sense of mutual respect and admiration.
"Some Prius owners might wave," he says while laughing. "But they probably don't use all of their fingers."
Reporter Jeff Daniel
E-mail:
[email protected]
Phone: 314-340-8399
