Canadians in general don’t seem to have developed a taste for Gin & Tonic. Gin they appear to like but Tonic remains a mystery and as a result, it isn’t to be found easily. Consequently I’ve had to resort to weird concoctions such as Gin & 7-Up, Gin & Mountain Dew, and tonight Gin & Perrier…with just a hint of lemon. Ugh. That’s like just a hint of Scoal. But I digress, here’s what happened today..
On the way out of Mattawa I stopped for breakfast at the same place I ate dinner at last night. Without so much as looking at the menu I ordered the good old reliable bacon-eggs-potatoes-toast-coffee. All of this accomplished as I was standing at the table trying to shrug out of the top half of big red without looking like the village idiot. The waitress (screw saying “wait person”) was pretty cool, she led me with each word knowing full well what to ask and when to ask it. “Onions in the potatoes? Over easy? Coffee black? White toast?” I think waitresses read me like cops who see me stopped by the road. Bottom line, the breakfast just happened to be their daily special and I got off for a meager $4.95. Yes I tipped but that was extra.
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After breakfast I paused for a quick pic of the little town’s main drag and then it was road time again. The day passed quickly as most all of it was spent on major freeways getting me past Montreal and its environs. At one point I darn near ran out of gas and using the fuel finder feature of the GPS I discovered Garmin and their programmers have a strange sense of humor. Following the turn-by-turn instructions I found myself in a part of Montreal frequented by ladies of the early afternoon (hooks) and young bloods in their best street fighter garb. The hooks ignored me but the bloods looked at me hungrily in the same way they might a juicy piece of white chicken. Bless you Kawasaki for building such a fine machine, breaking down at that particular time would have been most unpleasant. Still keeping the faith in Garmin I chose the next place on their roster and it turned out to be good, it landed me at a Shell station where one of the attendants spoke English and I gassed up and hit the freeway system again.
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It’s odd how easy it is to ride a bike several hundred miles without much effort. When you’re a kid that is; us old geezers utilize a different system to tell us when it’s time to hang it up for the day. For instance my boney old knees usually let me know and today was no exception. Yesterday it was my butt but the inflatable Air Hawk seat pad seems to be holding air after I applied the patch last night. I love low tech repair kits.
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Other than for gas the only stop I made was for lunch at my favorite burger joint, Burger King. It was slightly interesting for two reasons, one, the people who live in this area seem to think they’re French and speak accordingly and I don’t, and two, I got to watch a naughty couple meet for what was obviously a clandestine union. Tsk tsk, what if your spouses find out?
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After that it was onward and eastward until I could do no more and I ended the day at the Granby Motel, located at the starting line of the unauthorized Granby street drag strip. But hey, I don’t care because my Asian landlady booked me into room 52, the farthest location in the entire motel and upstairs to boot. Since there are at least two other vehicles in the parking lot maybe she’s expecting company? Doesn’t matter, I’m happy with my new digs and if anyone wanders down the darkened hallway it their bad luck.
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Dinner? Why it's Manly Food again of course!
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