All our lives, we meander through plastic fields of impending garbage. Our thousand-dollar iPhones, our flat-screen TVs, our designer toasters, and of course, our fickle printers – all of it rapidly approaching the eternal ignominy of the trash heap.

Yeah, super original thought, I know. But this isn’t a cliché rant about the opulent waste left behind by the developed world. We all know that it’s easier and often cheaper just to replace something when it breaks, and that “back in my day, we built things to last.” That’s not my point here.

That satisfying tactile kuh-klunk of the gearstick slamming its way through what appears to be a billion-speed gearbox is evocative. The offbeat bellow of a cross-plane V8, the squeal of tires, the tactility of the manual transmission… it’s raw, and it’s primal. You want to be that chisel-jawed young man careening in a state of suspended catastrophe through a crowded city centre. You want to be the one stomping the clutch pedal and sweating into the soft Alcantara steering wheel.

Late August always felt like the Sundays of the school year.  The lake grew choppy and grey, as though in perpetual preparation for the storms that grew increasingly common.  Indoor spaces claimed more camp days, subjecting us to arts and crafts, and group activities in place of sailing and dodge-ball.

"You’ll drink whatever the hell I tell you to drink."

The bartender grins as she leans over the taps to chastise me. She isn’t sheepish – rather, she maintains an air of authority as she finishes filling a glass with an adjacent beer to the Nickelbrook variety I had requested. My neighbour, who seems better acquainted with the bartender than, I leans over. “You’d better just drink it, I think she’s in a mood,” he suggests with a knowing smirk, although the bartender is already filling a glass from the correct tap.

The start/end point for the jump lines is a raised plateau between Gardiner Expressway and Lakeshore Boulevard West. A steep, smooth hill takes the rider down to the jump lines. Last time we rode Sunnyside, an overabundance of speed took me two metres past the landing ramp of the small tabletop, sending me face-first into the dirt at an uncomfortable velocity.

The ride to the top of the island had taken me 300 metres above the town at sea level. Steep and unyielding, the climb dragged my out-of-shape body through a tapestry of browns and greens.  The trees were at once familiar and foreign, creating a high canopy above the earthy, rocky trail.

Known by most for his role in the show Motoring TV or the many publications that print his articles, Kenzie is one of Canada’s top automotive journalists.  It should come as no surprise that he has an extensive racing resume, or that he helped create the Targa Newfoundland rally, but few would guess that 43 years ago he was teaching data processing and systems design at Ryerson University.

The impact of your friends can be limited to your personal life, if you so choose. And if all you want from them is to drag you out hiking or introduce you to your new favourite sushi restaurant, that’s okay. But your five closest friends represent greater potential for growth than just expanding your culinary horizons; if you let them, they can make you smarter. And as far as your career is concerned, your friends can bring you closer to the people and solutions that will give you a definitive edge.

What’s the first thing you see when you land on a recruiter’s website? If you’ve been wrapped up in the hunt for jobs or clients, you’ve probably begun to notice a pretty pronounced theme on all the ‘sites you visit: pictures of trendy young professionals cheerfully collaborating. Then, there’s lots of information: a forward-thinking mission statement, a go-get-‘em story… you get the picture.

I was surrounded by MBA students and enterprising grads. And I was Shane: one of 70 graduates of a small high school in southern Alberta. I did well; I had to. My role was to recruit relevant industry experts, either on behalf of current clients, or proactively for future needs. As a pet project, I started to recruit nobel laureates, going so far as to snare the inventor of the MRI machine. I was recruiting people, yet I didn’t suspect I’d ever become a recruiter.

It’s hard to quantify your impact, but I believe we can always be more. If you, like me, found yourself drawn to Vancouver, you’re aware of the limitless sense of possibility surrounding us. Nobody is just an urbanite; we’re active, we’re versatile, and when we look beyond the cityscape, we see ourselves in the mountains, the forests, and the oceans. There’s always more here.

At the far end of the Ricoh Coliseum, past the vendors and the petting zoo, hundreds of cows stand, sleep, eat or wander to sheering stations while onlookers of every age take pictures and mutter about the smell. Farmers quietly turn over the hay with pitchforks, or chat around the many radios playing everything from top ten hits to hair metal.

“As your new mayor, I will work… in moving Toronto not left, not right, but forward,” said Tory to the media, volunteers and supporters who filled the Liberty Grand banquet hall.

What was truly amazing, said Tory campaign director of operations Tamara Kronis, is the voter turnout that premeditated this event.