No time to blog long — the day was so good, time for a long hike with kids & dog around Thetis Lake, in cloggy-platformish sandals no less (ok, Dansko, but still). This gorgeous lake is unfathomably deep; some speculate that it actually connects to the sea (can’t find the source for this rumour, though). We got lost, hiked for two hours, nearly died of starvation, but were back on the highway finally, off to a nearby A&W. Then, return drive to the city in twilight, listening to The Doc Meets the Duke full blast. Oh what a beautiful day! Downtown looked sparkly, that magic twilight time just before 8. The heft of the car’s engine as I zoomed past “Antique Row” gave me a buzz. People spilled onto the sidewalk from packed auction houses. I felt like Robin, the long-lashed, tousled, black-haired pretty boy in the white turtleneck, who played a killer in an Avengers episode called The Bird Who Knew Too Much. He was very pretty, but a complete psychopath who killed for sport. Beats me why I felt Robin-ish, perhaps it was the killer-car-machine manifesting through my body. Speed is so deadly. “Perdido.” “Mood Indigo.” I’m letting my hair grow out, the windows were open, the wind was messing me up. Wonderful. “It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing).”
And around midnight, I’m driving to the airport to pick up my Mister who’s been flying around on bizness. I’ll roll down the windows and listen to the Doctor sing the Duke’s “Do Nothin’ ‘Til You Hear From Me,” yes I will.
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It’s the following day, Yule….did you come back?
Interesting how at the same moment, we were both writing about driving.
Oh yes, I did. Broke some speeding limits and went through red lights to get … No, I didn’t do that, that was someone else, I never would do that, ahem, but …
Ah, well, anyway, on the return to the city, after W finally deplaned and came through customs and we were heading home, I was stopped in a police duh-ragnet. They were looking for drunk drivers, but I hadn’t had anything to drink, so I answered, “Nope!” to the question, “Have you had any alcoholic beverages to drink?” and was waved through. (I always drive in this family. I really hadn’t had anything to drink, too: true.)
Don’t ever drive me with through Nevada. There’s nothing else to do there except gamble and break speed limits.
Or go off the road… I drove the stretch from Vancouver to San Francisco to Reno to Utah, and then back again through Idaho to Vancouver when I was a teenager, and hands down, Nevada takes the prize for being the most blinding place to drive through. I have to add, though, that never before in my life (or since) was I able to see the Milky Way the way I saw it in Nevada, camped in the desert, miles removed from electric lights and population centres. It was fabulous. (Not that looking up at the sky while driving is a recommended practice….)
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