Police Report Needed + Paddle of the Century + He Hated The Book
Good Morning from Warren Grove, Prince Edward Island
It is a beautiful August morning, sun is on the rise.
“Up at dawn, the dewy freshness of the hour, the morning rapture of the birds, the daily miracle of sunrise, set her heart in tune, and gave her nature's most healing balm."—Louisa May Alcott
Thank you for joining with me over the last number of weeks of life stories. I hope that all is ok in your world. These are crazy times.
A few ending sentences from last weeks blog...
By the time I hung up the phone, sirens were coming from three different directions. And one of them came right to me.
The officer talked to me and, while admiring my car, asked, "how fast will it go?"
"Right now, sir, it will not go very fast at all."
I was not happy.
Here I was my first weekend with a new-to-me useless car.
I found out who services MG’s and had the disabled car towed there.
Then I spent the rest of the day sharing the story with friends.
Hitchhiking back to work for Monday was relatively easy. It was Canada Day weekend, and lots of people were heading back to the mainland. I report to work on time.
Now I have to wait for the phone call from the garage, I can't wait for them to tell me to come back to the Island to get my car.
Walking into the insurance company office was memorable.
It was an open office with three women working at desks. A male manager was standing in the middle of the office with papers in his hands.
Standing at the counter, I explained I had an accident with the car and needed to know how insurance works.
He asked what happened, so I shared the story.
I remember all four heads were staring at me while sharing. They kept looking back and forth to each other; as to say, wow...we haven’t heard this one before.
When I finished the story, the manager responded, “we will need a police report.”
“No problem, I will have one faxed to you.”
After requesting the RCMP officer fax a report to my insurance company I started a conversation with the officer on the phone. I asked who the hijacker was. They gave me his name. I wondered if they found him at the bridge. “No, we found him at him at his family home (they told me where) having supper with his parents.”
Three weeks later, they called to say the car was ready for pick up.
I arranged a drive back to the Island with another MG owner. He loved the idea we would have a rally back. Unfortunately, I can’t remember who won.
Work was going well.
So well, the store gave another salesman, and I transfer notices. Tip Top Tailors was to open a new store in a new mall in Fredericton and needed us to get the store ready.
I was the only one with a car. We packed all our clothes into the trunk and strapped two sets of golf clubs on the back. Off we go.
On the way, I had to stop at a service station for gas a washroom break.
I asked Mike to fill the car with gas while I went to the washroom. He did.
About halfway to Fredericton, the car starting to lose, get up and go. I pulled into a service station, the kind of station where a greased overalled men repaired cars. Now all you find is convenience stores and gas pumps.
I spoke with him, explaining where we were coming from, where we are heading and the loss of power. I said Mike had filled it up with gas miles earlier.
He looked at Mike and asked, “what kind of gas did you put in?”
Mike said, “unleaded.”
“That’s your problem; you need leaded gas for this car.”
The mechanic siphoned it out and added lead gas. We started up the car and kept going.
The MG Midget crawled into Fredericton; the damage is done; it didn’t have enough power to complete the journey. The unleaded gas had burned much higher temperature and cooked the engine.
We pulled into a friendly neighborhood, planning on leaving the wounded car there.
With a promise to come back and deal with it, I left the car parked by the curb in a lovely treed neighbourhood. I wrote down the street name on a piece of paper and put it in my wallet. Then, I knocked on a door, explained our situation and asked if they could call us a taxi.
We had a tight timeline to get the store ready.
A week went by and the store was ready. Now I needed to deal with the car. So I took a taxi to my lonely car.
When I arrived at the curb where my car was, I am shocked to see what I saw. I couldn’t believe it. Here was my car, my new-to-me car, my dream car, crushed from the taillight to the headlight.
I stood there, shaking my head. The cab driver now standing beside me had no idea what this little car had been through in the last thirty days.
All I can figure is someone backed out of a driveway and creamed the car from one end to the other.
I had the taxi take me back to the store. At the store, I relayed the story to the new staff.
A fellow employee came forward and asked, “how much do you want for it?
He shared that he liked MG’s, and he needed parts. So I sold him my car as is where it is for two hundred dollars.
My new-to-me-car was now my gone-to-me car.
- Dame Helen Mirren
While writing this, I am reminiscent of all the hitchhiking adventures I have experienced. Some of them may come out over time.
My adventures are pale in comparison to this one.
Paddle of the Century.
Forty years ago, Don Starkell and his teenaged some set off from Winnipeg’s Red River on a world-record-setting canoe trip.
Don Starkell wasn't the kind of guy to shy away from improbable odds. So when people told him his dream of paddling a canoe from Winnipeg to the Amazon was impossible, it fuelled his determination to do it.
The epic trip would stretch nearly 20,000 kilometres through 13 countries and include life-threatening tropical storms, fierce waves and a near-execution in Honduras. Read the story here.
I loved this video.
This week, I have been thoroughly enjoying the album.
Bach: Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 2 (Excerpts) Piotr Anderszewski SAMPLE LISTEN HERE.
Also, I discovered Ivan Bessonov, a marvel of a pianist,.
Watch his hands!
We wish you a wonderful weekend.
With love from Prince Edward Island,
Bruce + Millie
ps. Your Morning Smile