July 3

Twisted logic tells me that if I delay the start of the journey, then I delay having to face it’s conclusion. So I wait until the last minute to pack the bags and the car. I am sure that I over packed, and I am still missing some vitally important something I camnot remember.
Driving, I am driving. I pass so many exits that I have taken before to see concerts. I drive along stretches of road that I swear to never drive again, and yet, hear I am again. Radio bores me, the road bores me, nibbling bores me. I wish I still smoked so that smoking would bore me. I pride myself on missing all of the Holiday traffic. I chastise myself for taking this week to travel, and for not staying at the beach.

I Finally hit the traffic. 2 hours to get around Buffalo and Niagara Falls, because some people are cutting the line in front of others, blocking off entire lanes. Ontario might be mine to discover, but no one is letting me get there.

Then I hit customs and immigration. Yes this is my car, yes I have a job to return to, no I do not plan to stay here very long, yes I have a destination. No, I have no weapons. And I was believed, and let thru, then asked for 3.25 to pass the tolls.

Surprisingly, I was not the only Bay Stater on the road, negotiating the wild highways of Ontario, followed by the sedate driving in the suburbs. I have driven in some of the most notorious cities in North America, in either my own cars, or rentals, alone, and with passengers, and I am surprised by the aggressiveness of otherwise famously polite people. In New York, Boston, Los Angeles, one expects the aggression. Toronto was a treat. I have been here before, but do not remember this aggressiveness, people driving 30 K over the limit, passing each other. Last time I recall, getting off, and negotiating the city to find my hotel, this time, circumnavigating the city on the highway was quite different. Not scared, but now knowing the unwritten rules, I am better prepared for my next journey.

I arrived, 580 miles later, my car speedometer set for kilometers, my GPS on miles, two hours after my original estimated arrival time, and that was not including shaving off an hour, so, 11 hours 45 minutes, 40 miles to the gallon, 3 cans of diet coke, half a bag of pretzels, two granola bars later, I arrive, still feeling the motion of the car, and blurry eyed, and unable to sleep.

This better be worth it.