oh my, is that nick's car on a flatbed truck in the middle of nowhere somewhere in canada?

yes. yes it is.


so nick and i went to canada to pick up bek, and visiting dave on the way in toronto.

the drive up there was uneventful, no getting lost, no drama at the border (apart from having to reassure the woman multiple times that we had no firearms: "i'll need a verbal response from both of you on that one" oh michigan.) We did stupidly wait till canada to buy gas but apart from that the trip was smooth and pleasant. Upon arriving in Toronto and finding dave's place there was a small michael moore moment when we were let into the house, offered a drink, then asked who we were and what we were doing there... oh canada. A pleasant night was had, we sat at the bar with the coalition of the willing (yanks, aussies and brits) surrounded by peace loving canadians and told tall stories of orchestras, bass players, australian politics, drowning prime ministers being picked up by japanese subs, monkey magic, the goodies, kath and kim, d-gen... all the good stuff that my dear dear american friends just don't understand, no matter how hard they may try. and much to dave's chagrin, we left early the next morning to head home. I tried to convince him that coming for one night was better than none but i'm not sure how long it will take me to live that one down. heh.

So off we go, driving to Niagra falls as bek had never been and Nick had never seen the canadian side.


it was, infact, so hot we almost died. either the heat or the $17 parking was going to get us eventually, so the road was hit once more, after bek and i gave a rousing rendition of "good ol collingwood forever" after we passed an obviously australian guy wearing a TAC tshirt and a colliwobbles hat. we didn't stop to talk, we just mocked gently as we passed on by. ha. expats.

Driving down the freeway again there's a sudden noise. Nick checks the rear vision mirror and says "hmm. must have run over some busted tire on the road... let me listen to the engine for a second" but it all sounds fine, so the bye bye birdie soundtrack is reinstated and we keep on trucking in kilometers down the road. 3 minutes later the check engine light comes on, and nick asks me to check in the manual what that means exactly
"if the check engine light comes on while driving, STOP IMMEDIATLEY. you may have lost the alternator belt"
at this point the airconditioner starts blowing out boiling hot air, the radio dies and the temperature gauge shoots up into the red as i read on:
"the alternator belt also controls the water tank and all battery power, do not continue to drive if you suspect this has occured"

so we get off the road and find a parking lot off the freeway, pulling in the car starts streaming smoke from under the hood, and it's an executive decision to get out of the car. now.

after a brief discussion of our next move, looking at an atlas to try and figure out where we are, and contemplating whether AAA comes to canada to get you if your membership has expired we venture across the road to the minigolf course to ask for assistance
nick:" hi, we've just broken down... do you know where the nearest service station is?"
man: looks at nick, me, bek, nick again, purses his lips and utters "no"
nick: "uh... well... do you have a phone book we could use?"
man: considers our statement as if we were asking for his daughters hand in marriage, gives us all the once over again, then tilts his head in the direction of the other room: "in there"
nick:"thanks a lot!"

so we go in, use my phone on international roaming rates to which cost i have not yet found the damage (ouch) and eventually find a towtruck company that will come and get us... I haven't made much note of the heat at this point. It was hot. easily 40 degrees celcius, over 100 farenheight or damned near close to it, and we were on the side of a freeway... the minigolf office was airconditioned and we'd all bought drinks and kept ourselves out of the way and generally been overly polite to the moronic minigolf man. the towtruck man says he'll be 25-30 minutes... purely as a courtesy, nick asks minigolf man if we could possibly stand in his lovely airconditioned room while we wait rather than sweltering outside in the deadly sun.
"i'm very busy. you wait outside"
we look around, see no one in the office, remember only 2 people coming in to pay in the last half hour shrug, and walk outside... ugh. a wall of heat and no towtruck in sight.

it wasn't that bad, we found a hill in the shade that had a small breeze and drunk iced tea and shot the shit while waiting for the towtruck to arrive. discussing how we'd be able to see the car from here if it had caught on fire, and therefore it was probably ok and other such pleasantries.
the tow truck arrives

nick drives his mazda up onto the back of it, we all pile in and drive to the place that "is guarenteed to still be open at this time of day"
we'd broken down at about 3pm, it was now about 4.
we land at canadian tire, pay the nice towtruck man, and watch the protege be hoisted up onto the workbench. "yep, it's the alternator belt, we've got a replacement one, come back in about half an hour" so we head off to Tim Hortons for doughnuts and sandwiches and soup and other bizzare things like a fast food joint that doesn't take credit cards and then back we go.
The car is still up on blocks, so we sit and wait, reading the local newspaper about the u-12 soccer team and other sundry amusements... an hour later we cheer as the car lands on solid greasy earth quoting "the mazda has landed, i repeat, the mazda has landed" untill the fateful words are uttered "we have a problem"
turns out one of the bolts is fused on, and the guy who's been working on it is an apprentice and therefore not allowed to use the blowtorch unsupervised. "we can fix it for you first thing tomorrow morning" is not what bek wants to hear.
"is there anywhere else we can take the car?"
"well.. there's another canadian tire 10 minutes up the road, you could make it there"
but he calls and they're swamped and unable to help us.
"there is another one, but it's half an hour away"
and there's no way in hell our car would make that without dying completely.
"there's a motel just down the road... it's walking distance if you don't have too much stuff"

we wander outside into the still stifling heat to discuss our options and comisserate over the dead car, and spy a very uncorporate garage/service station right across the bloody street. we run across and ask for assistance.
"well... we can help you, but we have been sitting around drinking beer, so if that doesn't bother you..."
we go get the car.

once again the car goes up on the fixing machine, this time the hoist has beer resting on it, they check it out, make jokes about the lameness of their competitors and then realise that they don't, infact, have the replacement alternator belt that we need.

for the 18th time we bolt across the road, breathlessly asking if we could buy the belt from canadian tire so that the guys across the road who were allowed to use the blowtorch could help us get home tonight. they oblige us, sell us the part, we run back across the road and the car is fixed in 20 minutes and $40.

sweet.
here is a photo of our saviours.


after the road was back under our wheels, and we managed to find the freeway again, the next hurdle was immigration which was stressful mainly because it was immigration but amusing for a number of reasons.
1) the officer yelling out "party of two australians and an american" oooh oooh. that would be us.
2) the guy in front of us having really hardcore detroit and bloodied skull tattoo's on his upper body and cartoon characters on his legs. tigger was nowhere near the bloodied skull. it's ok.
3) the sign saying all about the worker appreciation day where they'd get hotdogs and fixin's from the boss. you never see that stuff at airports.

then home. by midnight.
we left toronto at 11am.
it's a 5 hour drive.
if you drive slowly.

the end.

.m