Growing up on the east coast, it became ingrained that you stayed a little aloof from your neighbor, in order to give him or her breathing space. There were times when you literally did not know who lived a few houses away and people were content to leave things as they were. Being a good neighbor meant an occasional nod to a passerby, and if you were very friendly, an exchange of "Hi's". This does not mean that people back east were not friendly, they just expressed it in a different way.

I first became aware of the "Wavies" while riding the roads of Bennett, a small town about eight miles north of Solon Springs. I was driving my '71 VW Bus when I approached a small group of school children. I slowed down, like a good driver should, and when they noticed me, their hands pointed toward the sky in what appeared to be either a gesture of greeting or a nasty signal that I was very familiar with, having lived as I said, on the east coast. Perhaps it was the vision of a VW Bus on the roads of Douglas County that encouraged the greeting.

As time went on, the more people I passed, in groups or simply as singles, the hand salute became more and more common. Whether I was driving the Bus, or one of my other vehicles, the smiling faces seemed to take a great deal of satisfaction out of greeting someone, anyone, who whizzed past them. I had gotten over slowing down. No doubt my east coast driver's training had come to the fore. I still hadn't figured out what my reaction should be. Should I wave back? Should I nod my head and smile. I was dumbfounded. I guess my roots were beginning to show. I didn't want to ask my wife what the scoop was. That would confirm her opinion of those people from the part of the country that first sees the sun. It wasn't that she had any question about the intelligence of the easterners or their ability to solve problems, but she did think they had some difficulty in understanding the simple rituals of country living.

The more I drove around Douglas County, the more I noticed the waving. It wasn't only school kids. Guys driving tractors, wives doing gardening, teenagers just walking down the street, virtually anyone who was on the road and saw a car passing them, they all gave the same friendly hand signal.

To compound my problem, my ears began to hear the mellifluous tones of the horns of passing cars. Depending on the year, make and model, the tone would either be a blaring noise or a sound like an animal in distress, often causing me to rise several inches off my seat. The blaring noises took precedence and got my attention rather quickly. The first time I heard the horn, I was driving on county road E between Bennett and Solon Springs. The only car on the road was coming in the opposite direction and I couldn't figure out what was wrong. I checked my headlights and they were on low beam so I wasn't shining my lights into his baby blues. I figured it must be something else. I pulled over to the side of the road to take a quick walk around my car. There was nothing obviously wrong, and so, with a wink and a nod I got back in and continued my way to town, while thinking to myself that the other guy probably was trying to chase a wild animal off the roadway and had gotten me instead.

After the initial experience with the horns, I began to notice them more frequently and at first it was very distracting. The biggest problem was when a truck from one of the local townships would be close behind and decide to say "Howdy" to a guy or a gal going the other way, letting loose with a blast from his auto powered, ear piercing, heart stopping, warning device. The calming tone of the answering toot did little to soothe the savage breasts of anyone else on the highway, but after awhile, one would get used to it, at least to the point of reducing the wear and tear on the tranquility of the vehicle operator.

The horn blowing continued. Whether on E, L, the paved highways in Bennett or the less traveled back roads, the sounds that destroyed the golden silence that make this part of the country a true joy in which to reside became an integral and accepted part of everyday rustic living.

The city kid, initially totally confused, finally put two and two together and came up with five. As I became initiated into the driving practices of the local citizenry, it became a very pleasant habit to which I quickly became accustomed. A honk or a wave to the nice people of the community was a pleasant way to break up the monotony of a trip to Solon, Hawthorne, or Lake Nebagamon, except that on some days, the waving arm and the honking arm would become weary from the sheer number of neighbors that were encountered on the roadways. What was worse was when you mixed up the hands and tried to wave the honking hand and honk with the waving hand. When that happened, you could only hope that God was watching over you and the local police weren't.

Many years ago, when I was attending school, I learned in Science class that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The same seemed to take place in Douglas County. When I told the regulars in Prevost's in Solon Springs of my experiences with the Wavies and the Honkies, I was told that the lesson I had been exposed to in school was still valid in Northern Wisconsin. They told me of another group, the riders in the passenger seat, the Whozats, which were also a factor that had to be considered. Wavies were a little more troublesome to the operator, particularly if they were young and pretty as many of them are. A friendly arm movement from one of them would elicit and immediate "Whozat?" from the person in the passenger seat and all protestations from the driver that she was a complete stranger fell on deaf ears. Some of the ladies at Prevost's claimed that when the situations were reversed, the deeper voice from the right seat is just as vocal in its questioning. The obvious conclusion is that Whozats come in all sizes and genders.

Regardless of the controversy over the Whozats, which I think may well be an example of the art of leg pulling, long and successfully practiced in this part of the country, I hope the Honkies and the Wavies will continue to ply their craft. I know their neighbors and friends appreciate it and to a newcomer, it's a great way to be initiated into the community.