Our ddd, (designated driver Dave) did quite well to get us into the truck only 3 hours behind schedule, and did even better to drive the next 8 hours from Drummondville, QC. Without a third driver, I’m sure we’d still be in Saskatchewan, that is if we hadn’t changed our mind altogether and turned back for Calgary before even reaching QC.
The only side effect that progress experienced as a result of our previous nights homage to Mr. Hose Cuervo, was an un-required stop for fuel. (Our fuel gauge was out of whack, so we were tracking the amount of fuel left in the tank by tracking kilometers driven since last fillup. After both falling asleep, and giving the wrong answer twice to the DD, the Co-pilot reading the spreadsheet finally admitted he was too drunk to know how many kilometers they had driven.) As a result the DDD decided it was best to fill up the tank then to end up at a standstill in QC in addition to ON.
That was the fault of one of the co pilots, the second managed to save face until after two fill ups, one provincial border crossing, and a coffee stop, he woke up and said did we leave Felix’s yet?
Sobered up, and approximately 600km from Drummondville, it was calculated that if we filled both of our fuel tanks, this should be our last fill up until we reach our final destination. So we roll on and into Petro Canada. Both Tanks are fueled, and to the devastation of the peanut butter and jam per hour count, we pick up a bag full of A & W bacon and eggers.
So here goes nothing, let’s start this beast for the last leg…. Okay, no really start her up.
Funny Dave, let’s go.
No, that would just be a little too ironic, 300 km from our destination and she won’t start.
Right, so the saga drags on……. For some reason, I was much less discouraged than I should have been. Possibly it was just denial. I really didn’t think that this close to our destination anything was going to stop us for any considerable amount of time.
So out we go, push the truck to the side, and for 6 of the longest hours of my life we alternate between trying to start the truck, coordinating a drive, and waiting for the drive.
From our previous breakdown, one thing we learned was that there is no need to stay in the truck when times are bad, and without discussing it, we all took our waiting spots 50 feet
apart at separate locations around the parking lot. Again we found moods were growing sour. Nobody had dropped the f bomb but communication was growing ever blunter with the minute.
Finally, Dave reverts to last week’s advice and takes the situation into his own hands.
“Do you have that Frisbee Tyler and Marcia gave you for your birthday? “
“Ha, you know what I do.. “
So. Dave and I decided that our hands were tired and we were going to make the best of it.
It’s remarkable what a Frisbee can do. We hadn’t tossed it back and forth two times before we were both laughing and fairly care free about the predicament. It’s hard to say whether or not, without Frisbee, we would have reverted back to our pass the f#$king wrench selves or not, and you know what I don’t really feel the need to guess.
All I do know is that we did make the best of things. And 6.5 hours after pulling into the petro Canada, for the second time in three days, we left in the cab of a truck towing our own.
I’m sure this is not how any of us imagined the last leg. Personally I foresaw it ending via a fiery crash over a guard rail, or at least with a Ben Johnsonian arms raised top speed arrival, but alas, as we stair at the grill of our truck through the rear window, looks like this will be one son of a b#$%h anti-climactic finish.
But you know what, in light of all that’s happened. I think I may prefer it.
Until next time,
Luke
1 comment:
Yeay for frisbee!
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