You could tell he had done this before, perhaps hundreds of times. His was a beautiful slalom run on an unforgiving course. He weaved left. He cut right. He kept his speed up through the turns as he carved down the hill, avoiding every obstacle in his path.
Oh, wait.
You probably think I'm talking about the Olympics. I'm sorry. I was just admiring the work of the guy driving ahead of me on my way to work the other day.
I call it the Duluth Slalom.
By now, as winter wears on, those of us who drive our frost-pocked streets have come to know every pothole, every sudden dip, every receding manhole cover on our daily routes. No problem. Like seasoned competitors on the slopes at Whistler, we just anticipate, veer and look ahead for the next challenge.
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People new to our routes, watching us execute a flawless slalom run, must think we're texting or calling up the weather on our iPhones. Nope. We do our swerving and juking with our eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel.
The course gets more challenging this time of year, as winter deepens and works its cruel deconstruction on our byways. What used to be merely a gap in a concrete seam on one of my routes is now a black maw waiting for the unwary. I hit it the other day, and the whole car shuddered.
Now it's just another gate on my slalom course. I've had nothing but clean runs since.
Because we're all in this together on the slopes of Duluth, oncoming drivers allow for slalomers in the opposite lanes. If an oncoming slalom participant crosses into our lane briefly, it's no big deal. And if you follow a truly gifted slalom jockey, you can't help but rate him as if you were an Olympic judge.
"Oh, nice job," you think. "I'd give him a 9.8 for that run. He was just a little slow recovering from that last turn."
We are fortunate to live in a city built on a steep hill, the better to identify with the slalom champions we're watching on television this week and next. Watching them, we can better visualize our own runs.
Here we go: Out of the chute we call our driveway. Onto the course. There it is. First gate. Perfect. Note how the frame of the car remains "quiet," as the TV analysts say, letting the tires and struts and sway bars absorb the shock. Excellent form. Now, around the triangular crevasse. Squeeze between the twin manholes on 26th Avenue East. Straddle the pothole near London Road. Hold speed on the final approach to your parking spot.
Listen to that crowd!
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And coming up soon, the Super-G. That's right, the one we call Glenwood Street. It's a mile of craters, calderas, fissures and fractures. If you're not on your game, this course will eat you alive.
But you're ready. You've already mastered the Duluth slalom.
SAM COOK is a Duluth News Tribune columnist and outdoors writer. Reach him at (218) 723-5332 or scook@duluthnews.com . Follow him on Twitter at "samcookoutdoors."
