Trying my patience
Pity that vacations have to end with travel days. I mean, if I could find a way to go from “there” to “here” without spending the day watching bad drivers; that would be a vacation in itself.
Our day started well, with bagels and coffee and other morning stuff. Compliments of the motel, although I know that nothing is free. At least we weren’t under pressure to clear the room, so we did the nominal foot-dragging thing until close to lunchtime. And then, off to enjoy some road time.
At a gas stop in Perth-Andover, we hit one of those curious moments where the time thing doesn’t really matter – to others. We joined a line to get gas, behind a large truck and family from Ontario. I swear, it’s as if the man had no idea that you could pump faster by squeezing harder. We even did a loop beside the pump to see if there was any other permutation available. He pumped, paid and then started preparing a meal on his tailgate.
In the other lane, a pair of slow-mo road pilots were taking turns pumping gas. Small car, and what seemed like a bottomless tank. We waited. What should have been an “in and out” proposition took close to ten minutes. In fact, I filled our tank while the pair were still playing with the nozzle on their side. Slow burn.
In Edmunston, I actually had a great salad at the arches. Different brand of dressing (what, no Paul Newman?), but the rest of the ingredients were fresh, tasty and delivered in quick time.
And then we arrived within city limits. For those who have been upset with the long traffic waits in Charlottetown, try an ordinary afternoon on the bridge in Quebec. Forty minutes for twenty kilometres of bumper to bumper. But, at the end of the road, the dog was ready to receive us.
