My wife Robin recently attended a music camp on Maui, so I went along to get in some focused and uninterrupted preparation for an upcoming Masterclass (and do some hiking). As often (actually, always) happens while I’m in Hawaii, I had time to observe, think, and reflect, leading to some conclusions — all with a driving-themed lesson.
The day after arriving, I awoke early and drove up and around the northwest side of Maui to the Waiheʻe Ridge trail to go hiking. If you picture a multi-lane road when you think of a highway, think again. Maui’s Highway 340 is about 20 miles of two-lane road, surprisingly smooth. It swoops through big elevation changes, from relatively fast (in the 40-50 MPH range) through sweeping twisties, or slowing to 20-ish MPH for hairpin corners.
This roadway is as far as you can get from a Herman Tilke-designed F1-style track with massive runoff room. Volcanoes and the sea designed the layout, and there was no thought whatsoever put towards track limits. There’s no need for FIA officials to penalize drivers for the exceeding those track limits as almost certain death will, either by embedding oneself into the side of a mountain, or plunging hundreds of feet down towards the ocean. And that’s the easy part of the road. What comes next feels like a first-world country’s attempt to imitate a third-world country’s mountain road. It’s single lane for ten miles. Wait…some of it is barely single lane.
Driving this road was awesome! It’s the perfect playground for a kid obsessed with playing at the wheel of a vehicle. Any vehicle. Even a Chevy Equinox SUV rental car. Yup, that’s what I had. And you’re right, this is not exactly a driver’s car. Not even close!
It seems to me that GM does not care about the driving experience, at least not with their base SUVs. GM has done something with the “throttle tip-in” to give drivers the illusion that their vehicles are faster than they really are: they make the first 10 or so percent of throttle “tip-in“ — initial application — apply what must be about 50 percent of actual engine power (and then, not much beyond that). For the average motorist pulling away from a traffic light, it feels great. But when trying to drive quickly and smoothly on a very twisty mountain highway, especially with an automatic transmission that can best be described as having an “Okay, I’ll get around to shifting soon” attitude, driving is either a less-than-enjoyable experience, or maybe a fun challenge.
Oh, and the Equinox also has brakes that are lazy to initiate deceleration bite, but then sticks or hangs on to it once they do engage. A smooth but firm initiation of slowing, and a gentle and timely release, therefore, is a huge challenge.
Challenge accepted, with a playful mindset! I tried different ways to use the pedals, and turn the steering wheel. Sometimes I used a quick movement, other times a deliberately slow turn, application or release. I also changed the timing of the switch in my visual focal points, and just noticed what the result was. Playing was experimentation, and I was learning.
Twisting and swaying my way along the northwest coastline of Maui, thoughts of why I enjoy playing with the act of driving so much bounced around in my head. It doesn’t matter what I’m driving, I just love it for what it is, and that thought wound through my mind like the road in front of me.
The following day, I had a work call that I needed to get up at 3:15am for, and I sat in the Equinox in the parking lot so I didn’t wake up Robin. When it finished at 4:30 and I got out of the car, I heard the faint sound of guitar. In the dark, I went over to a covered area and saw slack key guitarist Ledward Kaʻapana and another musician playing ʻukulele. Because we’ve paid to see them in concert before, I wasn’t sure I was allowed to watch, so I wandered down to the beach in the dark. About 20 minutes later, the music was a little bit louder (but not loud — it seemed to float in the Hawaiian breeze), so I went back. There were now six musicians in total, including Jeff Peterson and Sonny Lim, whom we’d seen in concert, too. As there were now five other people watching, I sat and listened to them for an hour — kinda like a private concert as the sun was rising in the background. And these guys were just playing, having fun. At 5:00 in the morning. They’re all considered to be the best of Hawaiian musicians — Led is the Eric Clapton of slack key guitar. Even though I barely have enough musical talent to push the Play button on my iPhone, I appreciate great when I see and hear it.
What I appreciated the most was that these professional musicians, at the top of their game, were here, early in the morning, just playing. They did not appear to be practicing, although there was some of that, of course. But from the look on their faces, it was obvious they were really playing just for the fun of it. At 5:00am. With no one paying them for it. Not just playing, but playing. For the love of playing.
In the evenings at the music camp, the hobbyist campers would play, and the contrast between the professionals and amateurs was, well, as expected. But the difference was not in their talent or skill, rather it was in how they approached playing. The pros looked to be having fun, while some of the newbies were not. Not even close! Sure, I thought, with time and more experience they will improve, but only if they relax, let go of their focus on the result, and just play. The pros seemed excited to try new things, see what happened, and laugh when things didn’t go well — even when they were performing for a paying audience.
It reminded me of more than a few drivers I’ve seen.
And then, another morning, and another hike for me — with more playing. This time, I was playing with where I looked, from a glance in the distance to a focus where my next few steps would be; as I walked, I played with how much I could see with my peripheral vision, at one point catching the flight of a huge, soaring bird out of the corner of my eye. I played with stepping on the biggest rocks, almost leaping from one to another; then crunching along on the volcanic sand in between them. How often do we think about changing the way we walk and look at things? Perhaps, only when we’re playing? There’s hiking to get somewhere — like the end of a trail — and there’s hiking for fun of it, and just playing.
The following day, I hiked about a thousand feet down into the Haleakalā crater, thinking about the importance of play, and Max Verstappen came to mind. (At this point you might be wondering why a volcano would make me think of the World Champion?!) He’s certainly one of the best and highest paid drivers in the world, and what does he do in his spare time — even the night before a Grand Prix? Sim racing. Why? For the sheer fun of it, just playing.
It doesn’t matter what “it” is, doing something for “it” is one of the most special things for us humans. Maybe THE most special. Just playing at “it.”
“It”? Driving. Music. Hiking. Sim racing. All things I thought about for a few days on Maui. Playing at thinking.
When was the last time you just played at driving (or at anything), without expectations, without any care about the results?