I sure was enjoying the lower gas prices. I'd won (or lost) the latest round of 'gas gauge Bingo' with myself and had just finished putting 60 bucks worth of the cheap stuff into baby. I knew that it would take a little less than half of that for a round trip to Saint John making it a thirty dollar trip. I thought it quite reasonable. I paid for my gas, checked the lottery ticket we buy together at work ("Darn, gotta go in tomorrow.") then went out to wait for the gang to pass the Burton gas station. What I'd assumed would be at most a fifteen minute wait turned into three quarters of an hour.
Just as I was contemplating going home, a bevy of Bs slowed down and waved me into the lead. I took control of the gaggle and headed towards Gagetown. We stopped at the Coystown gas station for tee-pee where I learned that several other cars had somehow gotten separated/lost/busted on the way. As if to offset the losses, the Warrens and Greens had come up from Saint John to join the group. The Crumleys were trying for a second win of the Bent Spoke award and the Hoffmans were nowhere to be found and didn't have a cell phone. We shrugged our collective shoulders and headed off towards Saint John. The skies did more than threaten and soon we were driving through a heavy rain with tops down. While I tried to uphold the good image of the group, it finally got to the point where I couldn't see. The rain was pouring down the inside of my windscreen and my hanky wasn't up to the task of keeping it clear. I pulled over, waved the others along and quickly put my top up. This was only marginally better since it was now damp, clammy, and claustrophobic in the car. The top whistled loudly where it didn't quite fit the window and the same gap sent a jet of wet air into my left ear. At least the demister quickly dried the inside of the windscreen and reasonable vision was restored. After only a few Ks the clouds let up and I was able to stop and put the top back down where it belonged. My soaking wet hair dried quickly as did the interior. We all regrouped by the Westfield ferry terminal where we met up with the long lost Hoffmans and a few more folks from Saint John.
We ate dinner at a nice restaurant by the reversing falls. Despite there not being much of a sun out, it was warm enough to eat outside. It went the way it normally goes, we all tried to come up with the best lies then shut up as the food arrived. My bill came to thirty bucks (with a generous tip) making it a sixty dollar day. The timing couldn't have been better as we departed the restaurant in plenty of time to get home before it got dark. Everyone headed back on the 7 where they encountered torrential rains (serves them right!), while I (on my own) meandered up the good old 102 where I had a most enjoyable drive with only the occasional light drizzle. I decided that I'd received good value for the money spent on this trip.
I'm told that the Hoffmans will be offering a GPS for sale (cheap!) soon as it seems to take great delight in getting them lost.
- Bob
1 comment:
Before that coming out of the woods at the Welsford Irving we passed the gang coming out of the pump area tops still down on the orange B and the Jim B B.
Fait and I tried our best to suck up as much water off teh road as teh orange B floated past us leaving Jim and his lovely wife squinting through the rain plastered windshield. I keep looking back in my mirror to see if they were going to pull over and unfold teh rag top but Jim being Jim pushed through until they peeled off heading up the Vanier Highway.
The Hoffmans passed us just before the Nevers Road exit in a B line - sorry a T line to get home. Now you know the rest of the rest of the story.
Saturday while returning from Maine we saw Jim' Morgan travelling towards Meductic.
Post a Comment