Last week was a big week. My academic load hit an apogee of sorts (a couple midterms to take and one to study for), culminating with a Friday submission deadline for the first draft of my thesis. That’s right. MY ENTIRE THESIS. Well, the first draft. But there it was, a fully fledged first draft. Every chapter. Every section of every chapter. Citations. Formatting. Boom.
I was drafting, like you do on I-84 going west between the Dalles and Hood River. If you don’t find a semi to hide behind you’ll face a constant and terrible headwind that blows up the gorge, sucking precious MPGs till you’re battling to stay in double digits.
The best thing about drafting is building momentum. It feels like you’re surfing, skimming the pavement behind 18 wheels rolling under a container fully loaded with cargo all hurtling towards some far off place. Trucks bearing the fruits of apple orchards South of Hood River on to Portland Farmer’s Markets and yuppy grocery stores rocket down the freeway like the devil’s cannon ball and I fly behind them like a bat out of hell. Funny that knowledge is all about apples. From economic models to gravity and original sin.
Momentum. More reading. More thinking. But also a calm. In that vacuum behind the big rig there’s a stillness. It evokes a zen-like state, concentration on the task at hand, not getting to close, not getting to far behind and falling out of that precious gasoline-preserving air pocket. Waiting. For feedback from my readers. Waiting for my exit. Hoping the truck doesn’t slam on its breaks.