Like the transition between seasons we "drift" from summer to winter. I know there's another season there but lets face it, autumn is just a minor inconvenience while waiting for the next adventure season. That is why we live in Whistler isn't it?
Like a ship at sea, when it's dead in the water: it is drifting with the tide. As a matter of fact the term "adrift" has nautical roots and is still used to day when describing a sailor who is absent from his place of duty without authority, or "AWOL".
"Drifters" are similar to nomadic gypsies who "drift" from place to place, with no real fixed address, enough said there.
I'm riding the road bike this past weekend, it's a beautiful day, rare for "drifting" season. Honestly I really miss riding the road sometimes, I love the speed, efficiency, you know: all that man and machine crap. This was one of those days where all is right and I'm feeling great. My route is short but planned and I'm cruising on the west side just around the Rainbow trail head. I passed by a another rider on the roadside, she was on the phone and I thought, that's interesting because we as riders will stop to talk on the phone but drivers won't, I digress. I also know that as soon as she gets off the phone, she will try to pursue me as I lumber along, it's just what roadies do sometimes. So I try to put some distance between me and her and I'm feeling solid but alas I'm caught at Stonebridge, only a few short km from our first encounter. We chat, as we do, and I'm now gearing up for a serious downhill where I'm sure I will be able to put distance on her as I know this is my strength, sad I know. I get up to speed and into my tuck and fire all my spidie-senses and as I turn the last right before the bottom my traction is disrupted by a patch of loose gravel that is spread across the road. I "drift" to the left for what feels like ten feet and my heart-rate goes through the roof, because by now I am cooking down the hill at about 70 km/hr! I can only assume this speed because my focus is on the road!
I'm happy to say that I emerged unharmed and rode out of it like a champ, remember downhill is my forte. I only just realized that had this is truly the first time that my DH skills have come in handy on the road. Maybe I was just lucky, who knows?
I get back to Hwy 99 and make the turn north. I'm cruising now and all of a sudden the familiar voice from the top of the hill, "wow, you're fast on those downhills." she says. "That's only because I'm fat." I say. We chat about the weather and in less that one km I'm struggling to maintain conversation and she pedals away. I thought for a moment I could put the DH "hurt" on her by the time I got to the top of the small hill but no, she was gone, I never saw her again.
Drifting......
Think about it and look at this picture to get a clear vision.
