The Snowboarder's Journal - The Snowboarder's Journal 19.1
THE DRIVE
2021-09-27 14:41:50
A well-worn stretch of Washington State’s Mt. Baker Highway under afternoon light. Photo: Joshua Poehlein
Déjà vu is the feeling that you’ve been somewhere you’ve never been before in your life. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the trip to a place you’ve been a hundred times. From the freeway exit to the last quarter mile of the drive, you know it all. The turns, the trees, the barns, the farms, the fields, the bridges, even the smells. You know where to pass and where to slow down, where to check the view and where to keep your eyes on the damn road. You’ve passed by the same quirky signs for years. They’re ingrained in your memory. They’re part of your lore.
With each passing mile the visual and visceral cues of the drive add up. The lowlands bring the throaty rumble of railroad tracks. The field where the snow geese lie. The old general store where the gas pumps haven’t turned in decades. Memories flash of its quirky owner, creaky old floors and menageries of funky debris. Next up is the tight green bridge with steel girders that bite. Perhaps a glimpse of the river. Running clear or dirty? Glimpses of snowline levels in the foothills. The roadside tree of good luck. You mentally lean into curves before reaching them. Radio signals get scratchy and it’s time for the soundtrack. The cassette got chewed two vehicles ago, but technology revives it with the push of a button. Another layer of sensation and perception added to the mix.
The drive is an inexorable part of the experience. It pulls you, envelops you piece by piece, turn by turn, mile by mile. The blurred landscape becomes part of the ritual, dancing with tingling nerves of anticipation. And then you arrive. The matter is at hand. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, you’re salivating to the bell of expectant perfection. The commingled sensory soundtrack of the past few hours is over, stored in your life’s hard drive. After a quick pit stop, while pulling on your gloves and skating to the chair, you chuckle at how, on a fine, fresh powder day like this one, the bathroom always smells like adrenaline. You unconsciously add the sense of smell to your mental diary, a pungent punctuation, if you will. The lifts are spinning. It’s on to the blur of a new day.
©Funny Feelings LLC. View All Articles.
THE DRIVE
https://digital.thesnowboardersjournal.com/articles/the-drive