I learned to drive in St. John's, Newfoundland, but moved to Montreal two years ago. I ride a bicycle around Montreal but somehow couldn't bring myself to drive. Montreal is a much bigger city, and its drivers have, let's say, a European sensibility. I recently transferred to a Quebec license, which came in the mail last week. That's nice, I thought - I'll do what my mother did: keep renewing my license but refrain from driving until I buy myself a little red sports car with which to terrorize the highways when I get my first pension check.
Today we'd planned a road trip. Some weeks ago the dog ate the seatbelt on the front passenger side, and Dear One had the damage appraised at $300, so I piled into the back with the kids. (When I was in grade seven a very nice man came to our school and showed us a bloody video of decapitated cadavers who had not worn their seatbelts.) But I remembered that this was day four in a year in which I've resolved to do something each day that I have never done before. "Get out of the driver's seat," I told Dear One. And today I became a Quebec driver.
The universe continued its spirit of generously giving me a little something each day I honour my resolution to do something new. Dear One, fooling around in the passenger seat with the dog-eaten belt so it would look to any passing police as if he were actually wearing it, realized there were unused lengths of belt hiding within the mechanism. All he had to do was trim the desiccated part off, perform an operation with his trusty pop-riveter, and he could mend the thing and save himself the price of our kid's school trip to Boston.
On January 5th, 2011 02:33 pm (UTC), (Anonymous) commented:
I see. The dog ate the seatbelt so you made him walk down the street dressed in a pink sweater. Are you sure retaliation is wise? Have you considered what he might eat next? And then how will you get him back? This could get very ugly.