“If I’da known you wuz comin’
I’da knowd what to do.
I’da thowed up my han
And I’da wove at you.”
-Ernest T. Bass
Small Town Wave
When I was growing up in small town America (Canton, GA) one of the things on which I could depend was getting a wave from anyone you met on the road. It is a dying part of life, but one I remember fondly.
My friend, Susan, was talking about her commute and how, when she would let someone in front of her in traffic, the one thing she expected was, “the wave.” She, like I, feels that she has the right to have her kindness acknowledged by a wave. She has been known to scream at her dashboard, “Where’s my wave!”
I used to have a habit of bad-mouthing anyone who cut me off in traffic by calling them a Democrat. One day, after someone cut me off on the road, my older daughter, Jennifer was in the car with me and asked, “Daddy, why did you call him a Democrat?”
I explained to her that their attitude was, obviously, “I want that lane therefore I deserve to be in that lane.”
She responded, “Why not call him a Republican? “I want that lane so I’m going to take it?”
Touché, little girl. Here, let me pay for your college!
The Meaning of a Wave
The wave is not just a southern thing, even though we claim it as our own. It is actually a small town thing. In small town America, it can mean anything from, “Hi, good to see you,” to “I know your parents and you shouldn’t be out this time of night.”
Of course, big city folks have their own version of the “wave” but, before you use it around here you might want to reread the second amendment.
To a lesser degree, there is the “I’m an idiot” forehead slap for when you accidentally slam on the brakes or swerve in front of someone. Even Helen Keller would know to do that one. Come to think of it, if Helen Keller were driving, she would probably do a lot of head slaps.
By the way, another driving tip is equally important. If you have those blacked-out “nose-picker” windows on your car, there is a good chance that the other driver will not see you wave. But that’s OK. It’s the thought that counts. Remember, in small town America, it’s usually the thought that counts.
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