I’ve never been on a Harley Davidson motorcycle. I’ve never dreamed of owning a Harley. I’ve never thought of myself as a Harley kind of a guy. But that day, in my beige Ford Taurus rental car, I wanted a Harley. I wanted to be a part of that Harley experience. I wanted to see my bride, Susan, in black leather on the back of a Harley. (Okay, maybe that’s a different issue . . .)

It was the last week of September in 2003, and I’d taken a flight from my home in Minneapolis to Milwaukee to give a speech to a group in Neenah,Wisconsin. It’s a wonderful little Midwestern town known for making manhole covers.

While we were in the air, I noticed a lot of the passengers wearing Harley Davidson motorcycle logos on their clothing. I heard British accents, German accents, and Japanese accents on the flight, and I saw plenty of black leather jackets, red bandanas, and tattoos.

It was only after we’d landed and I’d jumped into my beige Ford Taurus rental car and got on the freeways of Milwaukee that I suddenly realized what was happening: I was surrounded by thousands of Harley riders on the road. There were hundreds of signs reading, “WE LOVE HARLEY!”“HARLEY ROCKS!” and “WELCOME, RIDERS!”

Passing the Harley factory, I saw the biggest sign yet: “WELCOME HOME!”

I had just arrived in the middle of the biggest Harley event of all time, bigger than Sturgis, bigger than Daytona. All the Harley riders were in town for the 100-year anniversary celebration for Harley Davidson.

Let’s say it’s 2003, you’re a Harley rider, and you’ve made the trip to that worldwide gathering to celebrate the 100-year anniversary of a great American brand. You rode your Softail® FXSTB-FLSTNFXCW. At some point you are standing by your Harley, and there are a lot of Harleys parked all around you.

A stranger walks by, glances at you, and then looks at your bike. What words could that stranger say to make your weekend?

Not, “Where are you from?” “How long have you been riding?” “What kind of financing did you get?” or “Can I see the rest of your tattoos?”

No, all that person would say is, “Nice bike.”

Yeah, nice bike.

To understand the importance of this, let’s go back to my psychology 101 class at St. Cloud State University in my hometown of St. Cloud,Minnesota. I don’t remember the professor’s name, but I do remember the lecture.

The professor drew a triangle on the chalkboard and talked about Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: food, water, shelter, safety, security, a big-screen TV, free cable, and, at the top of the pyramid, cheese.

It came back to me that day as I drove my beige Ford Taurus rental car, surrounded by thousands of Harley riders and their bikes. And I thought to myself that once our basic needs of food, water, shelter and security are met, we all have two core needs.

Number one, we need to belong: to a family, a race of people, a tribe, a village, a faith community, a group of fishing buddies, the Red Hat Society, the Harley riders, a great company, a united team, Mrs. Crane’s third-period English class.

We all need to feel connected. If we don’t belong, life is difficult, empty, and lonely.

Number two, we all need to hear, “Nice bike . . . I see you, I hear you, I appreciate you, and this world, this organization, or this community is a better place because you’re in it.”

Nice bike.

It was the gold star on your paper in elementary school. It was being invited to sit at a new lunch table in middle school. It was the high school teacher remembering your name on the second day of classes. It’s the smile from a stranger during your travels. It’s a coworker saying, “Great job!” It’s the employer saying, “Thank you.”

The principle of “Nice Bike” is all about finding what’s important to someone else and offering a heartfelt affirmation and validation to make a meaningful connection. It makes a world of difference in the lives of others.

One of the best parts of my job is getting to hear about how other people’s experiences back this up. After all, it’s not just me, not just Milwaukee, not just Harley riders. “Nice Bike” happens everywhere. Once, when I was in an airport about a month after one of my presentations, a woman who’d heard me tell my “Nice Bike” story rushed up to share one of her own.

Stephanie told me, “I was driving with my girlfriend across country. We were in the middle of Montana at a small gas station when all of these bikers rode up. They looked like a wild bunch out of central casting. The leather coats, the tattoos, the beards. All in all, it looked like a pretty tough group. My girlfriend and I were really intimidated.

“Who knows where I got the courage, but I walked over to the biggest, meanest looking guy in the group, looked him in the eye and said, ‘Hey, nice bike!’

“A big smile came across his face, he told me all about his Harley, asked where we were from and how our trip was going, and before you know it, they were filling our gas tank and washing our car windows. They were a great group of guys. I will never forget that experience.”

But you know what? As I said, it’s not about the motorcycle. It’s all about making connections that matter. Lots of “Nice Bike” stories don’t have anything to do with motorcycles, bikers, or a bike of any kind.

Not that long ago, I spoke in Chicago for Encompass, one of the largest personal insurance brands in America, which operates under the umbrella of Allstate. My presentation closed out their three-day meeting of two hundred key leaders and managers for Encompass. After my presentation, Cynthia Young, the president of Encompass, came back to the podium to wrap things up.

No doubt about it, Cynthia is a dynamic leader. She has a clear vision for the company, a keen ability to surround herself with talented people—and she sure knows how to connect with her team. Like most company presidents at the end of a big event, Cynthia wanted to thank everyone who’d worked so hard in putting the meeting together. Most of the time, a president will ask the planning team to stand up, and as the names are scrolling on a screen up front, the audience applauds for eight to ten seconds. That’s the norm.

But Cynthia went beyond the standard. In her own way, she told each and every person, “Hey, nice bike!”

After she asked the planning team members to stand up, she said, “I want to thank each and every one of you for putting in so much time to make this such a turning-point meeting for all of us. “Now, most of us know these people’s faces, and many know their names or even their titles. But each person here has so much more going on in their lives. Let’s take a moment not only to say thank you, but I want to tell you something more about each of these talented people . . . ”

Cynthia went on to share something about all twelve people’s hobbies, their family, their service in the community—always something unique about each and every person. Her comments were specific, interesting and highly complimentary. No notes. It was all from the head and from the heart.

I’ve never seen people beam so much in my life. The room lit up with their smiles. Why does Cynthia Young have such a dedicated team at Encompass? She recognizes, validates, and connects with each and every team member.

Nice bike, Cynthia Young.