Before I pick up from where we left off, I feel obligated to let you in on a experience I recently had. It happened in Duncan so I apologize for not staying chronologically correct as one who is edu-ma-cated would say.
The incident occurred just as we were going to catch the bus to Lake Cowichan. We walked down the sidewalk past a busy shopping area minding our own business, when out of nowhere vehicles zoomed by forcing us to stop in the middle of the driveways.
As we made our way to the bus stop it seemed we were under attack. We were getting cut off by crazy drivers that either didn't see or just didn't give a rip about us. Obviously we weren't able to move quickly (having 60 lbs on your back will slow you down). Finally, after being frazzled and frustrated we made our way out of the worst of it.
This in itself is not worthy of an extra blog entry, but read on.
We looked before we crossed the last driveway between us and our bus stop and saw a lonely white Pontiac Grand Prix in the distance looking to exit the parking lot. Sanity told me in this moment that we were clearly there long before the car and as we were pedestrians in Canada we had the right of way. Insanity told the driver that his car was bigger than us (up for debate as we did have our packs on).
He accelerated then came to a rolling stop bringing his car broadside of us and within a foot or two. I, suddenly being filled with stubbornness (I can only speculate a bit of my wife's stubbornness has rubbed off on me), decided that nothing, not even this fellow's Grand Prix, was going to alter my trajectory or my velocity. He pulled out onto the road at his leisure but was surprised, as was I, to hear a loud "THUNK" as my foot connected with the rear quarter panel of his car. His car jolted to a stop and I watched, confused, as he fumbled for his window controls. It appeared he had a message for me.
My intuition was proven right when he finally got fed up with his window controls, opened his door and uttered words that I feel, if I repeat, may alter the course of my soul the day I die. He followed this up with some words that I couldn't repeat if I wanted to because they were in another language. But I assumed they were not nice.
Now, I don't know if I reacted out of disbelief or the advice my brother once freely gave (I'm referring to the advice of simply laughing at people when they become irate), but I started to howl and perhaps I was out of line when I lifted my arm to point and laugh. But it worked, he didn't know what to do with himself and simply drove away finally releasing all the cars he had blocked behind him. Some people?!
- THE BUS CONVERSION - PART 3
- AND SO IT GOES
- THE BUS CONVERSION - PARTS 1 & 2
- UNSETTLING AND RESETTLING
- LIFE IN SASKATCHEWAN
As I read your account of the Grand Prix showdown, I imagined you, Eric, in full Western attire, carrying your saddle and saddle bags instead of a pack, cowboy hat tipped down low over your face and a bearing a grim countenance that should serve as warning to all who met your gaze. Rach, you were only a few steps behind, also decked out in Western duds, two six-shooters slung low on your hips and a "don't mess with me" swagger of supreme confidence. Then came the music, you know, that western theme song that always plays when things start to get really intense, it sounds pretty good when you whistle it. It was the last straw; some privileged, inconsiderate greenhorn refused to acknowledge you with the respect you deserved and you derisively raked your spurs along the side of his impeccable carriage. For a moment it seemed that chaos would break lose and the whole town would get shot up but in the moment of retaliation, you deflated the balloon of his ego by pointing and laughing - suddenly it's no longer a Western but something out of a Will Ferrall movie....
P.S. Thanks for the postcard! It was very Holy Grail-esque and I want to go find myself a shrubbery every time I look at it.