The Season sleeps, the drive doesn’t
“When the seasons shift… I feel something stir inside me. Hopefulness? Gratitude? Openness? Whatever it is, it’s welcome.” — Kristin Armstrong
When the Formula One season ends and the grandstands empty, most people think the world’s fastest sport goes quiet. But inside the garages, the real work is only beginning. The cars are rolled back behind closed doors, stripped down to bare carbon and bolts. Engineers comb through thousands of laps worth of data, hunting for tenths of a second like treasure. Every weakness is exposed, every strength recalibrated. Drivers retreat into training, sharpening reflexes, studying cornering lines, preparing their minds for another year of chasing perfection. The off-season isn’t a break—it’s the crucible where championships are forged. And while the world sees silence, the teams see possibility. The pause is only the prelude to speed.
And in a quieter, more personal way, our driving season ends the same. The roads grow cold, the leaves fall, and the last warm weekend slips behind us like the final lap of the year. The mountains empty out. The engines cool. The double yellow rests without being chased. But just like the pros, what looks like the end from the outside is really just the beginning of a different kind of work. A season for rebuilding. For planning. For remembering the best runs and imagining the next ones. The pause isn’t a stop—it’s a reset. A breath before the next ignition.
For me, I always dread this time of year. It feels like driving season saves its best for last. Maybe it’s because we make more time to get out there, or maybe it’s the way the scenery hits its peak as the leaves start to fall. Either way, the whole thing feels bittersweet. The roads are never more beautiful than right before they slip away.
So I try to remind myself that the off-season has its own purpose. It’s a time to prepare. A time to make the car better. To finally tackle the maintenance I’ve been putting off and figure out which mods will make next year’s miles even sweeter. And then comes the part that keeps me going—the anticipation. The promise of spring. Clean roads. Warm pavement. That first stretch of empty double yellow waiting for us like it never left.
I’ll admit, I often envy my West Coast friends this time of year. You all get to stretch driving season deep into winter—running canyons while we’re already packing the cars away. Out here, snow threatens us as early as October and hangs around like an uninvited guest well into April. And if it’s not the snow, it’s the salt, the cinder, and all the other road-ruining things they scatter across our backroads. The very same roads we spend all summer chasing.
But envy aside, there’s something about this forced stillness that I’ve come to appreciate. A season to slow down and reflect. Driving has woven itself so tightly into my life that when it’s absent, it’s all I can think about. The road becomes a memory, a daydream, a promise waiting for the thaw. And I know I’m not the only one who feels that ache—the quiet longing for the next run, the next curve, the next moment where everything makes sense again.
When the season ends, it’s easy to feel like something’s been taken from us—the freedom, the ritual, the calm we only find between the lines. But the truth is, this part of the year matters just as much as any mile we’ve driven. The off-season is where patience turns into purpose. Where quiet turns into clarity. Where the heart grows hungrier for the first warm day and the first clean stretch of pavement. Winter may steal the roads from us for a while, but it can’t touch the devotion. It can’t silence the engine in our chest. So we wait, we build, we dream—knowing that when spring comes and the world thaws, the road will welcome us back like it always has. And we’ll be ready.
The wait is long. The return is worth it.
-Double Yellow Apparel