In which our hero drives a thousand miles, but complication follows him faithfully every step of the way...

There are a lot of reasons why I shouldn't have a blog. I'm not a published -or even publishable author; I'm magnificently out of the flow of most modern thought; I've never been very good at the kind of sustained, long-term project that a good blog is.

But, a number of people have suggested that it's a way to keep in touch now that I'm a thousand miles away, so...


I drove down from the Centre of the Universe this week. My house sold on Monday, and I stayed overnight with friends up north. Tuesday, I had lunch with my brother and sister-in-law, and rolled on a little farther before nightfall. My magnificent trip planning meant that I started by hitting the Toronto morning rush hour, always a good start to a trip. Still light traffic and OPP with better things to do got me to lunch on time.

I hear that there was a multiple-car accident on the 400 this week; I'm surprised they don't have them every day. There are people out there making bad, bad tactical decisions.

The second day involved the one non-negotiable part of the trip: Never drive 185 in the dark!  (Tried it back in November, didn't like it. 1/10, would not drive again.)

This wouldn't have been too hard, but I stopped to help a guy with a flat (on a Dodge Ram - rather like jacking up a tank) so this led to the second speed run in two days, to get past Edmundston before the sun went down. (By the way, if you're the guy who designed the spare-tire hanger on the Dodge Ram, I need a word with you about your true vocation in life, and why it doesn't involve designing stuff.)

The highway 20 route through Quebec is one of my favourite parts of the world to dawdle around, and take detours, and explore. Actually, it's one of my favourite parts of the world, period. So, of course, for the fifth time in 13 weeks, I drove through it about as fast as I could, and missed everything that I love about the  Eastern Townships. One of the things I missed was Restaurant de la Montagne, in Saint-Pascal. The food is terrific, and I promised myself I was going to get back there, which I will. One of these days.

The rest of day two would have been pretty easy, except for a wrong turn in Woodstock. It delayed me just long enough to encounter something between an over-sized snowstorm, and an avalanche with a lot of air in it. At one point I was driving on and off the corrugations on the side of the road, because that was the only way to know where I was. Fun times, I tell you. This is what you miss when you go to Spain for the winter!

Third day should have been relatively uneventful. Let me just say, about taking wrong turns in Fredericton: Don't take wrong turns in Fredericton. Just don't, okay? And then there was the traditional driving snowstorm as the sun went down. #ThisWasntFunnyTheFirstTime.

Strange occurrence that night, as I was sitting here checking email. I had a vague but persistent feeling that I should be in a band practice somewhere.

And that's about it. I'm in the wee town where I'll be for the next several years.

Can't wait to see what comes next.