I knelt backwards on the passenger seat , my torso halfway out through the sunroof of the sedan. I gripped my iPhone firmly and did my best to steady myself against the roof of the car. From this position it was hard to see the screen, but I did my best to keep subjects in the video frame.
Behind us on the winding downhill road, hunched against the wind, rode four young men. Their three-wheeled conveyances look like something from a redneck Olympic event: low-slung tricycles welded together from old bike frames, tractor seats and scrap metal. The rear tires consisted of small lawn tractor tires inflated inside short lengths of PVC pipe. This allowed the driver to spin or slide the back end at will while traveling downhill at high speeds.
My role as a cameraman made me the storyteller of this strange adventure. It’s a role I’m familiar with, and a role I love. The story I was telling today was one of youthful ingenuity and adventure. The wind in the face, the sun on the blacktop and the living in the moment; the simple joys of adventure, original and unedited.
At times I feel that my role is unnecessary and even a bit foolish; no amount of storytelling can bring you to this place or allow you to experience the day the same as these young men did. But the task of the storyteller is more than documentation of facts. We are the interpreters of time and space, bringing meaning and purpose to a slice of existence. We do not seek to show you everything there is; but we draw your attention to the things we value, in hopes of showing you what we have seen.
If you’ve never seen drift trikes before, there are some great videos on YouTube. What stories do you see that need telling? Hit reply and show me. Thanks for reading!