We Lost Something in Canada
On Friday afternoon, we took off for Canada, land of wildflowers and ambivalents, with 4 goals: change the oil, stop at duty free, make it to Toronto by midnight and coerce Stephanie into abandoning her life and staying with us forever. How did we do?
1. Oil Change Driving through Michigan, land of spare parts and bankrupt automakers, one might think it would be easy to find a cheap, quick oil change. Not so. After two exits with Starbucks, Fiber 1 bars, post offices and gas, we began to lose hope in our chances of finding liquid oil to ensure Betty’s smooth transition to Canada. Leave it to the WalMart atlas to save us.
Yes, indeed, about two miles before the only WalMart in Michigan with a Tire and Lube Express, Steph remembered that our atlas chronicled services offered at different stores around the country. She found our locale on the map, matched it with the cities in the front directory and lead us to an oasis of a WalMart, hidden in a forest off an unmarked highway. That’s about four miracles in a row.
VERDICT: Success
2. Stop at Duty Free In need of face wash and…other things…we approached the Canadian border around 11 pm hoping the duty free would still be open. But, alas, we did not see it, so after paying a highway toll, Steph decided it would be a good idea to ask the two security guards in combat boots in the middle of the road where we might find the duty free. Which meant that hours after explaining how to go through customs so that we did not get pulled over, we got pulled over. The two American guards poked around our car, asking about “that thing on top” and offering to write “we have weed” on the side of our car, so that Canadian customs would stop us. We giggled and chatted for about five minutes, and I learned that customs guards on a Friday night are just as bored as the guy working at the bowling alley. We all need someone to talk to, right?
VERDICT: Fail
3. Make it to Toronto After one Tim Hortons stop and two wrong exits, we pulled into Toronto around 2 am. And I’ll be honest, all I noticed were girls in really trashy outfits. But the next day, I saw the city’s beauty and charm. It’s like a little New York, which means you can live in Brooklyn and still walk/ get cabs to the Lower East Side. Despite the 3-week and counting garbage strike, the streets ran clean, and everywhere you looked, people sat on patios, smoking cigarettes, sipping on coffee 
and catching up with friends. To counter the four hour walking tour we took to see all of this, we dined that evening at The Fat Belgian and stuffed our faces with burgers, mussels and grilled calimari. Did I mention we were going to Kingston the next day to inhale Steph’s grandma’s peach cobbler? Yeah…about that…Canada’s pretty nice.
VERDICT: Success
4. Coerce Steph to abandon her life Though I’m sure the idea of another 7 hour car ride held a lot of appeal, we could not pry her away from Toronto. She sent us off with a delicious home-cooked dinner party (oh, how we have changed!) and woke up at 6 am to pack the car. And I really can’t say any more, other wise this blog is going to become the most cliche piece of mush you’ve ever read. Suffice to say, leaving sucked.
VERDICT: Fail
