Your Turn

The rural wave

By Julie Fritz

Drive 50 miles away from Walmarts and car dealerships, and you have a chance of experiencing a Western tradition that will make you feel warm and welcomed. If you drive down any Colorado country road, you will be greeted, sooner or later, by a wave from the driver of the oncoming car.

The rural wave out here is as prevalent as windmills and cattle guards. But if you are going to travel in this neck of the woods, you'd better know the protocol. First, let's talk about technique. There's no sense in trying to mimic Queen Elizabeth's side-to-side fan wave. That's not going to fly as you rumble down County Road 150 with a dusty, bug-splattered, cracked windshield. No, you really only have two choices for your rural wave: one finger or four fingers.

Now, I've only been here for a short time by Western standards, so I'm not sure what determines the finger count; but it seems, through observation, that the more cows you own, the fewer fingers you use. So choose your style accordingly.

So far, this sounds like an easy-to-learn Colorado ritual, but there's a glitch. Cool and comfortable, slouched down in your seat, with hands on the steering wheel ready to raise one or four fingers at each approaching car, you quickly look like a fool if the other guy has no intention of waving back. And those people do exist.

When I first moved here, I waved to everyone, just to be safe. But after a while, too many rejections were setting me back. It felt too much like seventh grade dance class, where, out of a row of 15 boys, only one started to move in my direction, and that was at the instructor's urging. So I have worked out a pretty good system that will help you determine your chances before it's too late.

From about 50 yards down the road, start sizing things up. You are more likely to get a wave from a Chevy truck than from a BMW coupe, unless the truck is used for construction. Builder types typically don't wave, but truck-driving ranchers and retirees are pretty reliable when it comes to acknowledging you.

Finally, the odds of receiving a rural wave seem to have something to do with where you are. Forget it on a fast-traffic, paved highway. There are too many people who see your dusty vehicle as an impediment, not a friend. If it's one finger, it's probably the wrong one.

But on washboard, rocky county roads, your chances are good. If you haven't seen a car for about five miles, your chances are excellent. For then you both have shared a common misery: lost lug nuts, cracked windshields or worse. You have both survived a tire-flattening, suspension-destroying, driveshaft-dropping scenic road. The wave is an acknowledgement, a wave of empathy.

You both realize you have had the privilege of sharing the road with the mountains and canyons and rolling hay fields. You have both been dazzled by the shifts of the sun and the play of the clouds. You have driven Colorado.

And maybe that's what the rural wave is all about: a salute to a fellow traveler who is moving through some of our most perfect lands, on the same road, at the same time. With that in mind, I think I'll go back to waving at everybody-and use all five fingers!

Your Turn

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