I wave. I wave incessently (well, except when I don't). And it's a right proper cheerful hand off the bar and waggle from the wrist wave. I put loads of effort into it. And I've noticed that I seldom get a response. Maybe I'm not looking at the right thigns (I can't see your damned eyebrows for the one-eyebrow-lift wave through your iridium visor).
Scooter riders I wave at to test them....are they awake? Or are they too focussed on the next cup of mochafrapp to wave?! 
On wednesday the guy in the petrol station asked whether i wanted a bag for my bottle of water since I was "on a scooter". I discovered then and there, that it's really difficult to give someone a filthy look with your helmet squishing your face into one that resembles a small fluffy rodent!
It is easier to accept the message of the stars than the message of the salt desert. The stars speak of man's insignificance in the long eternity of time; the desert speaks of his insignificance right now. - Edwin Way Teale 1956
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