The days have started to run into each other, but in a good way. Having been a bit busy, and with other matters taking priority, I am a day behind in my blogging, For the most part we don’t worry to much about tomorrow’s destination, with today’s front of mind - the marvels of GPS certainly makes each days journey a lot less stressful. By mid afternoon each day the oppressive heat has had us seeking the air conditioned bliss of whichever hotel room will be our home for the night, foresaking the scenic route for the quickest we can find - sometimes with mixed results, rush hour traffic occasionally thwarting or plans, resulting in 30-45 min of the stop start stuff we hate so much.On arrival the first job for some is laundry - a necessity every 2-3 days for most of us, and there is usually a rush for the few machines available. Last night Mel and I, and then Monica nabbed the 3 machines on offer (typically there is one or two, so three was a bonus), eventually stripping down to undies so jeans could go in too (I was later admonished by my housekeeping dept for my rough and ready technique, so that’s my lot for the trip!). Getting out of Montreal was a bit of a nightmare, massive road works and detours that persisted even way out in the countryside meant we saw a lot more than we intended, which was not all bad(until the afternoon sun kicked in). The day was longer for some that others - Wayne and Tina suffered a flat tyre, and despite assurances that assistance was on its way, after a couple of hours Doc, who along with Cuddy, had stayed to assist while everyone else carried on, managed to crank things up. Chucky took the front and led us by his version of a circuitous route (the Harley GPS can and does have a mind of its own - perhaps even a sense of humour). We were blasting along the motorway (auto route in French) at about 20kph over the limit, when one by one from the back moving forward we each saw an approaching police car and dutifully slowed down -not Chucky though, too engrossed in looking forward to the first beer. Thankfully, it appears that we had not reached whatever point triggers the Mounties into action, so a sigh of relief. So, a Monday night in the middle of nowhere - but google told us there was a bar 500m along the road - what are the odds, a Harley themed bar, black and orange, motorcycle (albeit a Harley knockoff) on the roof, loud, shite music and almost no one else in the joint. Jacqui asked for the music to be turned down (phew, it really was death metal stuff), then Pamela, the single bar person / Waitress on duty got to work - young, attractive, scantily clad, with a delightful French accent, (and spoke a little English) and extremely efficient took drink and food orders - what a girl, even with people moving about she had it all down pat, and most showed their appreciation appropriately when we left. Comments are closed.
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Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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