The Eyes are the Window to Your Soul. Or Something.
On Saturday afternoon while doing the Meteor dualsport in south Jersey, we stopped at about the half-way point of the ride to get gas at a small gas station. When Gary and I pulled in there were probably 20 other motorcycles already there filling up.
Because New Jersey doesn’t allow you to pump your own gas (technically) you have some type of interaction with a pump attendant. In my case, he pushed the button, handed me the nozzle and then took my money at the end. I was one of dozens of motorcyclists that passed through the station that day.
Hours later after packing up my bike and shedding my stormtrooper gear I washed my face, put on my baseball hat and pointed the Ridgeline towards home. My first stop before hitting the highway was filling up the truck. The first available gas station? The one I’d stopped at with my bike.
I pulled up to the pump, the (same) guy walks up to my window to take my card and says something like “Oh, you’re back. You were here earlier.”
Now… I have a way better chance of recognizing the same guy, in the same clothes, at the same gas station than he did me. But he recognized me out of a helmet, different clothes, in a baseball hat, in a car. How? I saw dozens of other riders throughout the day and I don’t think I’d know a single one without a helmet on.
What is it that allows us to really “see” and recognize people? Is it really the eyes?