Wednesday 29 November 2017

Boring, boring TCH (Nov 29)



Here’s my advice: don’t get a new car

                        by Robert LaFrance

            When the kids were growing up, we were pretty much in the poorhouse, and drove vehicles that should never have been allowed on any highway, anywhere.
            However, there is an ‘upside’ to driving ancient and decrepit vehicles: you never have to worry about scratches on them. About three weeks ago we acquired a new vehicle and then I lay awake nights worrying about someone brushing up against it or spitting on it. Three evenings ago I visited Wal-Mart and it must have been their slow time of the day, because there were only about one hundred vehicles in their parking lot.
            There was one area of that parking lot that was completely empty, so I parked right in the middle of it. “The car will be safe there,” I said, but when I came out of the store twenty minutes later there was a vehicle parked so close that I had to squeeze into my car. No scratches on the car door, but a vertical line of dust where the passenger’s side door of the 1989 Gremlin had hit it. There were 75 parking places, all empty, nearby, but the driver seemed to be lonely or something.
            “I had better quit fretting about this or I’m going to have an attack of Sickle Cell Anemia,” I told myself that evening as I sipped away at a lemonade while watching a show called ‘Canada’s Worst Drivers’. After finishing my drink I went out to the shed, got a pole-ax (so called because it was manufactured in Warsaw, Poland) and went out to my new car. “Whack!” No more worries about scratches.
            That story could have been true. It was close. My friend Flug’s nephew Roger did that very thing one time in Ottawa and for the same reason. Unfortunately though, he mistook some other guy’s car for his own 2016 Jetta. It didn’t turn out well.
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            Last Tuesday I drove (in the new car) to Moncton and back and after that experience I have a warning for the reader. Like parking your new car somewhere on the ground, don’t do it!
            Is there still a Guinness Book of World Records? If so, and there’s a category for The Most Boring Stretch of Highway in the History of the World as We Know It, New Brunswick would win it hands down, as they say.
            Driving a Gremlin across the Kalahri Desert would be a titillating experience compared to going from Fredericton to Moncton on the Trans Canada Highway. At least there would be changing sand patterns instead of trees, trees, trees and the odd rock.
            It really isn’t too bad until one gets below Fredericton. Here and there, around Woodstock and other places, there is a glimpse of the St. John River, and twice I could see actual water and even a house. Quite a thrill. I am sure that whatever maverick engineer left those views in the plans was sent to Siberia at best, forced to drive that road every day at worst.
            The original ad: “Engineers, please reply to Box 13, the New Brunswick Gazette,  for a job engineering what we want to be a boring, boring, boring road. All replies that include a mention of scenery will be trashed.”
            I wouldn’t have thought it possible that a province as beautiful as New Brunswick could be made to look so totally boring and uninviting as along that particular stretch of highway. You top one hill with hope in your heart that SOMETHING, ANYTHING will appear but you are disappointed once again because in the foreseeable distance is nothing but trees and more trees with a rocky outcropping down by Young’s Cove and an empty beer can along the highway near the Sussex exit. Oh, the excitement!
            The next time I drive along the beautiful Tobique River or see a couple of deer standing along Highway 105 in Tilley or see a pontoon boat on the St. John or Aroostook Rivers, I will sing Hosanna in appreciation.
            I called an engineer who had worked on the 4-lane down below Lincoln. He had just finished a therapy session (trying to forget he had worked on that road) but was willing to talk.
            “Yes, Bob, I worked on it and I am able to finally discuss it. Old Billy Harper and I were the chief engineers. As soon as we finished the road and he drove on it once, he turned to me and said ‘What have we done?’. He immediately retired to his cabin in Wapske where he designs craft items and ties flies.
            “He says he has pretty much gotten over the shame now, but he still wakes up screaming in the night. “The truth is, Bob. The government wanted us to design a boring road so drivers wouldn’t get distracted by interesting sights.”
            “Well, you sure succeeded there,” I said. “I didn’t get my eyes unglazed until I got back to my lemonade.”
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