The Rural Wave

I grew up in the medium “big” city of Davenport, Iowa in the ‘50’s and ‘60’s. I don’t recognize it anymore. The country road my girlfriend and I would go parking on is now a 4 Lane highway. I was raised in the town of Nashua, Iowa, population 1800. It is about 200 miles north of Davenport. I differentiate between the two because Davenport was where I lived for 18 years with my very cool parents but Nashua was where I learned how to become me. And I owe that to my grandmother. She is the one who taught me that rural people help each other out when something unforeseen happens. I have complained about this dying trait for a long time. It manifests itself most notably in the absence of the “Rural Wave”, that casual flick of the wrist that acknowledges a passing motorist, be it a neighbor or a stranger. I had an experience of this absence of community last summer driving home north of CTH M on CTH E. I had a tire blow out at highway speeds. It is only the second time that I experienced a flat at that speed in my 59 years behind the wheel. This one was on a public highway where I would have expected at least 6 cars to pull over to see if they could help. Or at least that is what would have happened when I was a kid riding with grandma. No one, save a young woman on a bicycle, even acknowledged my predicament. She couldn’t get out of it being situated on that bike and heading my way. And we wonder why we rural people are now so frightened, paranoid, and angry… Just like city people.