If you find yourself reading this column more slowly than you normally do, there is a reason for that. I’m typing it more slowly.
Let me explain. My shoulder, arm and wrist are sore, so I can’t type as fast as I usually do. But first, I should give you a bit of history.
When I moved to Carnduff 11 years ago, I was introduced to a small-town phenomenon – the wave. Unlike big cities, almost everyone waved at each other. Not as they walked, but as they drove. It did not matter if people knew who was in the other car or not, they waved. Local people, people from other provinces, even people from North Dakota. If they were driving toward you, you waved at them.
I thought this was strange, but I had heard the old saying – when in Rome, do as the Romans do. So being in Carnduff, I did as the Carnduffians did.
But how to wave? I’d noticed three different types. There was the indifferent wave where one simply lifted their hand a bit off the steering wheel without really even looking at who was being waved to. Then there was the cool wave, that twist of the wrist while pointing a couple of fingers.
And then there was the full wave, the one where the driver raised their whole hand and arm up and did a casual wave while looking eye-to-eye with the oncoming driver, adding a smile to the wave.
After several weeks of experimentation and even trying out a few new moves, I decided that the full wave greeters seemed to be the most personal. I joined their rank.
I got a kick out of it, to be honest with you. Of course, the longer I lived in town, the more people I recognized. There were still many I did not, but it felt good waving and smiling at everyone.
It started getting out of hand. One night, while driving late at night, I found myself doing that full arm thing. In the dark. I was waving at people I couldn’t see and who couldn’t see me. My sensible wife asked me why I was doing that and her question made me feel a bit foolish. I didn’t have an answer, but I kept doing it anyway. adHad Had I become a wave addict? Was there such a thing?
This past week, my wife and I drove to Winnipeg via the Trans-Canada Highway. And wouldn’t you know it? I found myself waving at cars and trucks that were driving past me on the other lanes, at times many metres away. Had I reached the point of needing help?
And it gets worse! We flew from Winnipeg to Toronto – no, I didn’t wave at other planes passing by. But when we arrived in Toronto, we drove on Highway 401, Toronto’s busiest road. That highway has up to 18 lanes, nine going east and nine going west. Over 314,200 vehicles use it daily. And there I was, doing that full wave.
To stop this silliness, I tried sitting on my hands but with vehicles travelling at speeds more than 130 kilometres per hour, that didn’t last long. I tried concentrating on my problem but that did not work either, as it meant focusing less on traffic. My arm just kept going up and down, up and down. I must have looked like a chicken trying to fly.
It was good getting back home to less traffic. My arm is enjoying the much-needed break.
And there you have it. That’s why my right arm, from the shoulder down, is sore and the reason I’m typing more slowly, and why it’s taking you longer to read this column!
OK, I’m exaggerating a little about my Toronto experience, but I have been thinking that maybe I should get one of those plastic hands and attach it to my steering wheel – especially for night driving.
