Welcome to a very special Canada Day post.
My dad has a story that he absolutely loves to tell about me. It’s probably his favorite because he gets to be the hero and it shows how much of a pain in the ass kids can be sometimes. It just so happens that today is the five year anniversary of this little adventure.
During the summer of 2000, I was planning a trip to go see Merle in Boston. At the time I was working in the major paper mill at Thunder Bay. It was 4 days on, 4 days off, shift work so I was able to trade with another student to get eight consecutive days off. I asked my dad if I could take our Jeep for the trip. He was reluctant but agreed to let me have it.
So I started out on the 25 hour trip, I had planned to drive to London, stay the night at my empty-for-the-summer apartment and drive the rest of the way the next day. It was all going well, I went around the north shore of lake Superior, crossed the border at Ste. Sault Marie and headed south to Detroit on Interstate 90. On I-90 I noticed everyone was going really fast. Everyone. Much faster than the 110 km/h that my dad recommended as my speed ceiling. So I sped up to 130 km/h (about 80 mi/h) to match everyone. Apparently the little Jeep couldn’t handle this and something broke. I was in the middle of the busy four lane Interstate when I noticed that I was suddenly coasting. Pushing the gas did nothing. So with panicked clarity, I escaped by drifting over to an exit ramp. Since I was coasting, I only had enough momentum to get halfway up the exit ramp. I parked it with two wheels up over the curb and got out.
Where did I break down? Why was the Interstate a busy four lanes? Because I was in Detroit. I supposed it’s a pretty good city for your car to break down in, but I could think of better places to be randomly be stranded on a Saturday night.
I tried and failed to get the Jeep moving. So I got out and walked with just my wallet to check out the neighborhood. The buildings were all pretty run down, it looked kind of like an old industrial area. It was near an exit ramp though and I was lucky to find a hotel a few blocks away. I phoned home just as my parents were about to head out and watch the fireworks to inform them that their little boy was stranded all alone in Detroit.
I described what happened and my daddy, the mechanic, suggested shifting the jeep into 4-low mode and see if it would move then. It did, but no faster than about 10km/hr. I got it to the hotel though. I stayed at the hotel and phoned Merle to get her panicking too. On Sunday morning I phoned about 50 garages before I located one that would take the Jeep (the mechanic, “Bob”, was actually out fishing but forwarded his calls out to his cell phone on the boat.) So I drove the Jeep to this really shitty looking run down garage, parked it in the driveway, slid the keys under the door and caught a taxi to the Greyhound station. I then took a bus to Boston leaving the Jeep behind. (It’s Pa and Bob’s problem now hehhehehe.)
So I had my vacation in Boston and took another Greyhound bus back to Detroit. (I was scheduled to arrive there at 3am.) Here is the sketchy part I’ve never told my parents, I got to the Detroit Greyhound station at 3am or so and went out to the cab area. A very large and intimidating black guy grabbed three of us off the bus and herded us into his cab. We all told him where we were going and he dropped the first two off. He headed out to where I was going and it took a long time. We had agreed on a fare of twenty bucks before hand and the longer we drove, the more he wanted. He said he wouldn’t go any further for fifty. I told him all I had was thirty (a lie), we argued, eventually he grunted and continued on in nasty silence.
When we finally got to the garage, I saw the Jeep and my heart lept with joy. I got out my wallet to pay the cab driver and he put the light on, trying very hard to see how much money I actually had (a lot). I hid it from his prying eyes, took out thirty and escaped.
I drove back 12 hours straight to Thunder Bay after 18 or so on the bus and had to work the next day. My dad was charged $2000 for a new Jeep transfer case and labour. My mom conviced him that since I was hard working student I didn’t need to pay them back. The End.
The Ancient Undergrad 
lol, it does indeed sound like an adventure! I’m glad everything turned out, though at 3 am in the morning, I’d be more than a little initmidated by a big black man…or any big man for that matter! hehe, fun stuff though…glad your mom was nice!
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Sounds crazy and hella scary. Holy shit in Detroit of all places aah! Reminds me of when I blew up my transmission in my Mazda last year. I was going about 90 miles per hour. Not good for a 12 year old car apparently. What happened was a gear fell out (it was a manual transmission)… neutral gear fell out. The car was dead. Wah!
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my car broke down in new mexico and had to greyhound it to chicago. then greyhound it back to LA (forever ditching the piece of shit car)
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happy canada day :)i was the only one at work celebrating. felt a bit odd with my “the best girls are Canadian” tshirt while everyone i saw was sporting red white and blue for 4th of July. o well. my family had pancakes and maple syrup for dinner. i dont like maple syrup; i dont like syrup of any kind. my dad says i cant be canadian if i dont like maple syrup. i told him i would start eating it when i move to Vancouver. anyways… happy canada day
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I’m glad that the scary man didn’t beat you up, rob you, and leave you for dead, because then you might not have been around to write this enjoyable post. It all worked out, in the end…
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Bless your widdle Canada-Day-celebratin’ heart!! You got to experience many things icky about America, all in one week….Detroit, the freeway, shady cab drivers and Greyhound. Lucky you. Bob the mechanic sounded like great guy though. Wow, you and Merle have been together a long time.
“Panicked clarity” — heh heh — I’m going to use that one.
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Detroit is very scary. I dislike going over the border at that point!
I’ve Greyhounded it all the way across Canada. Four days and four nights almost non-stop with only an hour stop at the transfer points. I did like it, but I’m a gypsy girl anyway.
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that was a pretty fun story. car trouble can be very nerve-racking, especially when you’re alone and far away from home.
by the way, i usually try to comment on your posts. but recently my comments on your’s have been more scarce than my own posts, because the fritzy computers i use have trouble loading your site. your’s is the only xanga site i visit that gives me this problem. i’m 99.999% sure it’s your music playing thing that my machines don’t seem to like. i just wanted to let you know.
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That’s an awesome story. Dads are the best; my dad is my hero. I didn’t realize you & Merle had been together so long. I’m glad you escaped intact, you little punk–Detroit can be a very sketchy place.
Is it at all viable to move to Canada? Are Americans welcomed, or is there a lot of anti-American sentiment (which I wouldn’t blame any country for at this point, though so many of us do oppose what’s going on)? I mean, just from what you know as a citizen? When I was in Oregon this week, my aunt and grandma, who hate Bush more than Hernando and I (which I wasn’t sure was possible, but it is) discussed for hours and hours where else we could go and how to do it, given the bad karma this country is racking up and the awful things we are doing to the rest of the world. I feel guilty and sick even living here anymore. Nice thing to say prior to the 4th of July, but that’s how I feel. Sorry that doesn’t relate to much in your post, but besides Colombia, which is pretty bad off itself with the rebel governments, guerillas, etc. (Hernando has family there), I am seriously exploring some options of where else we could go and seeking opinions from others who would have a better idea than I.
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I have such a story…. reading this actually brought back happy memories from another time and another life that are precious to me. Thanks.
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Oh, what a story. Good parents you have there. But what a bitch to have to deal with… ugh.
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