The Last Leg

Some of you are wondering what happened to us, since I didn’t post a blog of the last leg of our journey from Quebec City to Bathurst, NB.

I’m happy to report we made it safe and sound. It’s just that we became a little distracted with our grandson and I went to work on Ethan and Carissa’s todo list almost immediately. The blog had to wait until yours truly was placed on the injury reserve list due to over 60 stupidity. More on that later.

The journey from Quebec City was mostly uneventful. We stopped briefly in Rivière-Du- Loup the birthplace of Connie’s maternal grandfather. The stop was impromptu – at the last exit and last moment, I turned toward a PetroCan to top up the gas tank. Unfortunately, the station was closed for upgrades so I continued on into town trying to find another gas station.

For some strange reason I had blocked from my memory the terrain of this little city. It wasn’t long before the memories came rushing back. During our last trip we stopped in an attempt to find the cemetery where Connie’s great grandfather was buried. On that trip our trailer was five feet shorter and we were towing it with a Toyota Tundra. To add insult to injury the very steep hills (10% plus grade) were dug up for sewer line replacement. This time the roads were in better shape but pulling our thirty foot trailer with our fully loaded Ford F150 made it equally joyful.

We managed to escape unscathed but without gas. Connie would like to return a third time but when we do, we will better plan our route and stay. Apparently there is a nice campground mid city, so perhaps we will stay there and bike or walk to the church cemetery.

Eager to see our grandson, we sped toward Bathurst with a short stop for lunch and fuel at the Flying J in Edmunston NB. The service centre there is huge and was very busy. RV’s and transport trucks enter and exit a separate area. Unfortunately for us, there was only one gas pump in this section. The right side of the pump was occupied but the left empty, so I drove around to come in from the other side and was met by a transport truck who decided to pull into “my spot” and wash his windows. I expelled a few choice words and gave him the death stare but it was of no avail. As I impatiently waited, cursing under my breath, we soon became entertained by the fellow on the right side of the gas pump who was screaming out at the pump (I assume expletives) in French, which evidently was refusing to authorize his credit card. Connie took this opportunity to provide me with a teaching moment on being patient.

Shortly after Edmunston, we turned off the Trans Canada to take Highways 17 and 180, a shorter and more remote route to Bathurst. After turning on 180 at St-Quentin, we soon decided we wouldn’t return this way. The road ranked among the roughest we’d been on in some time. That said it was worth it as we rolled up to meet our grandson welcoming us on the driveway of his home.

We took a couple of weekend’s off and drove to Moncton to be with Sam and Leona as they moved into their new home. While in Bathurst, Connie has been spending most of her time with Boden, who is becoming rather attached to Grandma. Papa, my new name, has been kept busy working with Carissa patching, sanding doors, painting, and installing new baseboards and trim; building closets with Ethan; and doing various outdoor jobs – including cutting the grass on the ride on mower, which is how the injury occurred.

You may be asking, how does one injure themselves on a riding lawnmower? Today’s new power equipment has safeguards to prevent nearly every possible injury from occurring. Well, challenge accepted!

This machine has a pressure sensor under the seat, so that when one stands up, the mower disengages. Fortunately (or unfortunately), I was raised during a time when things weren’t disengaged until you physically disengaged them.

I was have a grand time cutting the grass when a good sized tree branch appeared in my path. Rather than getting off the seat of the mower and removing the branch, I decided to drive around it and pick it up while in motion. As I drove by, I leaned over the arm rest putting significant pressure on my chest, while using my arse to maintain adequate pressure on the seat to prevent the mower from disengaging. It seemed like a good idea at the time and I proudly retrieved the branch just as I felt a substantive crack in my rib area. For the rest of the day, I ignored my discomfort and kept working and praying that no one would notice. By now, I’m certain you can conclude how well that worked out.

Last weekend all seven of us took a trip to Nova Scotia with an overnight in Halifax and two overnights in Moncton where Sam and Leona live.

Today I am sitting writing this blog entry outside our trailer in Ethan and Carissa’s backyard enjoying the warm summer sun.

I’m hoping tomorrow with another day’s rest and the help of some pain killers I can get back to work in the yard as there is lots to do and I don’t like sitting still.

Until next time, thanks for reading.