So these nice people take me out of retirement. I was
sitting by the seashore in Victoria, enjoying an odd trip to some beach or ski
hill, just enjoying not going anywhere too fast. 25 years and 210,000 kms is a
good life and time to put your tires up and enjoy yourself. Maybe take up a
hobby, tell stories to the younger motorhomes of what it used to be like to
travel to Mexico in the old days and unfortunately leave the odd stain on the
pavement (old guys do that ya know).
Then along come these two assholes from Nanaimo who buy me from that nice young lady, who bought me from the nice people who purchased me new. Yea, they did a lot of work on me, shined me up, made me feel young again, but bloody hell they didn’t tell me what they was thinking.
One day they get me up early, load all their stuff in me
(along with that bloody dog of theirs who keeps hopping on my passenger seat)
and head off on the BC Ferry. Then they take me up every bloody hill in BC, I
mean everyone I swear, in the heat no less. Don’t they have any consideration
for my age? Guess not.
And then it was across those accursed prairies. Flatter than
an old beer and almost as tasteless. And it was hot. Not like warm but like
“holly fuck it is hot” type of hot. But I didn’t complain. No Sir, just purred
along. Sometimes I got a little warm but I never lost my temper, er
temperature. Don’t these two respect my
age?
But going through Ontario was nice. Slower pace, lots of
trees, not too many of them damn hills and the temperatures were nice. Kinda
liked it there.
But then we went to Quebec. Roads like shit. They rattled
every old joint I have loose. And the drivers! Had to keep hitting my brakes
hard, sometimes really hard. Pot holes the size of truck tires. And the hills
were endlessly steep. I had to wheeze up them in first gear sometimes. It felt
like it took forever. What were these two middle aged arseholes thinking?
But the last while it hasn’t been so bad. Back near the
ocean again. Temperatures more to my liking, and no hills. Not a one. Well a
couple of small ones but not like the Rockies or Ontario. No wonder them
hurricanes come in and wreak havoc. No hills to stop them.
And the roads aint too bad except up in the Cabot Trail
area. Real narrow like with no shoulder at all. Good thing them kept a sharp
eye on their driving as if they wandered off the side of the road it would have
torn my axles off. No respect I tell ya for us old motorhomes.
Now the fat one, he was nice to me. Changed my oil, lubricated
my squeaky old rear shackles and rotated my tires. Nice guy bit of an ass, but
nice guy. Now if he could just learn to drive.
Well I have to go. Gotta rest up for the remainder of the
trip. I might wheeze and gasp a bit but I will make it. I hope. What were these
two thinking?
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