It was 8am on Valentines Day when I saw the craziest sight of the cold season. A stubborn sun refused to shine and the entire world appeared grey and without a feature worth noting until a small roofless yellow car roared passed me on my left. The driver was a monster of a man who occupied not just his own chair but most of the passenger seat as well. His waist length dreadlocks were flapping wildly behind him in the cold morning wind and small white clouds emerged periodically from the skinny cigarette he left hanging casually between his lips.

I was only granted a short few seconds to witness this character before he weaved in and out of other motorists and gradually faded from sight. I was excited by this wildman and his careless journey to who-knows-where. I felt like he was really jumping the gun on spring, but it was clear to see that as of that morning it was already summer in his mind.

Just a few weeks later I ventured off to attempt my first trail ride of the season. Spring felt as though it were still several months away and conditions would be less than favourable, but if roofless sports cars are capable of early February highways than I insist that mountain bikes must be capable of late February singletracks.

On the trail I found puddles, ice and snow as I got to know my new Process DL. It certainly wasn’t riding season just yet but the large man in his small yellow car had left me missing the ecstasy of weaving in and out of sagebrush on my own careless journey to who-knows-where. So I smiled as mud freckles dotted my cheeks and cringed as pedal pins slashed at my shin. I felt like I was really jumping the gun on spring, but as of that ride it was already summer in my mind.