It's my first week as a bicycle commuter. I ride about four miles from West Hollywood to Beverly Hills at 5 AM in the morning. My route begins westbound on an empty Melrose Avenue. There I come face to face with some of the most creative trendsetting shop windows in all of Los Angeles. For nearly two miles I am flanked by motionless, plaster suggestions of what is ideal and desirable. When I cross Santa Monica Blvd at Doheny, I enter the fabled residential streets of the 90210. From there on, I run every stop sign on broad, tree-lined Carmelita Avenue.

I am becoming familiar with my wealthy neighbors' landscaping and lit-up windows. Eventually I will recognize which car belongs in which drive. Maybe I will memorize some personalized license plates. I will say good morning to the pre-dawn walkers. Some will return the greeting, other will not. This is, after all, Beverly Hills.

But, the issue of the greeting has puzzled me these last few days. In Tennessee, the Country Wave is standard when driving past someone. It's a little gesture to suggest kinship on a sparsely populated road. I liked it and would use it often.

So, my assumption was that cyclists would behave similarly on the streets of the city - that there would be a mutual acknowledgement of likeness to one another. That just like Harley riders and military men, we would punctuate the association with a gesture. So, that's what I did. I started nodding and waving to each biker I passed.

But, not everyone waved back! I was shocked, but I remain determined. I am going to keep up the wave, the nod, maybe even a spoken "Power to the cyclists!" just to really drive it home. I'll do this, in order that the community develop threads that tie one member to the next.

For cycling really is a beautiful thing. Especially through a not-yet-woken-up city. For how else would I get to experience the scent of the morning's first everything bagels baking on Bedford or catch the fragrance of a flower that I assumed only bloomed in the Spring? When else could I spend 25 full minutes feeling superior to everyone around me operating gas and brake pedals (even you, you high and mighty Prius drivers!)?

So, I hope that if I pass you on your bike in and amongst the streets of LA, you'll lift a finger or two in salutation. That would really make my day. And I hope that when I smile and nod back, it makes yours, comrade.

Here's to getting off of four wheels and onto two as much as possible.