Got up early to catch the first breakfast shift at the heritage house B&B we were staying at for day or so while down in Victoria. Shared a table with a couple from North Carolina, Mary and Chester. “We have learned that you folks don’t stop for rain, that’s for sure! People just keep goin’ about their business as usual.”
“What does your average Bubba do when it rains in the Carolina’s?”
“Oh, we-all stay in. No sense gettin’ wet. We still go to work and all, but most other things wait til it’s over. No sense walkin’ around in it or anything.”
They were very pleasant. Invited us to look ’em up when we get down that way. Black-eyed peas, greens, ribs and cornbread promised. Some of our best adventures have been started on less.
Then up to Costco and the shopping-from-hell exercise that we do twice a year or so. Car loaded. And missing. I am being plagued by the mass-air-flow sensor again. The major error was in writing a blog about having fixed it. What a fool! The only solution now is in selling the car. I exposed hubris to the car-gods in that blog. They don’t like that. Golf gods are like that, too. So are all feminine gods but I tempt fate now perhaps too foolishly by even saying that. Apologies to all things feminine.
Stopped at Spikes auto wreckers on the Malahat for a used sensor. Spike is like most auto-wreckers; big, mean, dirty, all-business, all-rip-off, all-the-time. Still, much cheaper than the original manufacturer, he has a legitimate scavenger’s place in the giant scheme of things. While he turned his back to get my receipt I noticed his window was decorated with Christmas cards. “Say, Spike, do all you wrecker guys send Christmas cards to each other like the ones I see on the window?” (Happy Holidays from Prince George Auto Wreckers!)
“Sure do. Every year. At Christmas.” And then he added a big smile like he was one of Santa’s little helpers.
The cards. The observation of Christmas coming every year and Spike’s big smile just appealed to me. I left laughing. Spike returned to being, well, Spike. It was not one of those ‘you had to be there‘ moments because no one has to be there. But, if you had, you would have laughed.
Sal didn’t get it either.
We drove like hell. Not because we drove quickly but because the engine sputtered and died for nano-seconds the whole way. I needed to get close to home to put in the part. But we made the city in time for the last load of perishables and then caught the ferry to the neighbouring island where our boat lay waiting patiently after being left there for us by our (awesome) neighbours. It was getting dark. A lot of heavy lifting later, we were bumbling along in the fading light to our our shore for the last and hardest leg of the journey. Hauling everything up the rocks and ramp. An hour or so later, we were in the house, with the fire starting to take the chill off. We had been gone only five days but it felt terminal. It was a voyage worthy of Sinbad. Only without much of the sin.
It’s just a phase. I am getting less inclined to travel these days.
Could be all the terrorists, or the people intending to catch them, but I think it is more that I prefer my own bed. In fact, I prefer my own everything! Even MY own cup of tea is better than everyone else’s tea. You know the empire is dead and gone when you can’t get a decent cup of tea anywhere! Yeah….you can quote me!
Gawd, it is good to be home. GAWD, it is GOOD to be HOME! GAWD, IT IS GOOD TO BE HOME!!!