This is where I experienced the worst drivers ever: Canadian truckers.
Now I don't want to do
wnplay truckers in general; if you have a CB radio and listen in on truckers' conversations, they're usually hilarious. If you have one in your car and are in need of some help, they're usually pretty helpful people. But in this case, I had a near-death (well, sort of) experience with the grill of a gigantic Mack semi.(As mentioned in my previous entries, Canadian DOTs tear up the entire road when they do road work and don't do it one lane at a time like they do in the US. )
Eventually the pleasant ride came to a stand-still on Highway 17, and we were yet again waiting in a line of semis hauling things like wood chips and logs. We sat on our bikes for about 15 minutes before we started crawling again, and after crawling for about a mile or so we ended up on that infamous dirt-gravel mixture, but this time it was wet. Extra wet. Both my CX and Dad's GT struggled through the slosh while still trying to maintain balance and speed, but the trucker behind me in this turquoise Mack with a grill with a "jaws" bra on it was losing his patience.
As I was trying to balance myself going 10 mph uphill, this trucker (I kid you not) is a little over a yard away from me (bumper to bumper). I try to keep calm and quickly take my right hand off the bars and move it out pushed it downward a few times, trying to tell him to slow down. It's not a foul gesture, just an obvious way to say "you really need to slow down, I'm having issues". He then honked
his horn at me.Now.
Semi horns are loud. They're supposed to be loud. They're probably extra loud in Canada to scare bears or moose off the road.
I'm sure you've had a semi honk behind you before. You were probably in an enclosed car and were startled, but probably had an easier time getting out of his way. But you've never been riding out in the open on a motorcycle when a pissed-off trucker LAYS on his horn four feet behind you when you're having a hard enough time just staying upright. This scared the hell out of me and I tried to speed up. I could tell my Dad saw the whole thing, because he was doing the "slow down gesture" as well. Two minutes later, he gets up right behind me again and lays on the horn and then does a "honk-honk-honk-hoooooooonnnnkkkkkk!!" and if I hadn't taken the risk and gave it all the throttle I could in second gear to speed up, I would have been underneath that truck in a split second. Did I pull over to the right? No. I literally had nowhere to go, but into oncoming traffic.
My Dad made the bold decision to swerve over to the other lane, and swerved yet again into that lane's shoulder, and I followed suit. In any other situation, this would be a stupid (and illegal) move. In this situation, it might have saved me my life.
Did I flip him off? Of course I flipped him off. The guy almost ran me over twice and was obviously being an asshole about it, so I gave him a nice bold display of Yankee hand gestures in my bright yellow rain suit on the side of the road.
That my first real episode of road rage.
Then I saw a black bear in the ditch, and hoped the bear would slip into his cab at night. And then I thanked God that the bear wasn't in the ditch while I was pulled over or stopped in a mile-long line of traffic. I decided that was way scarier than getting ran over by a truck, so I felt better about the situation. (But I still hoped the bear would maul my tormentor that night).
About an hour after that, we stopped for gas and met a female rider from Vancouver that was riding her 80's Honda Magna to a business meeting all the way across Canada to Halifax (This is roughly the equivilant of riding from Washington state to Maine), who happened to be staying in White River as well. We offered to have her join us at dinner, but she said she was hitting the sack as soon as she got to town because she was going to be up and at it at 4 or 5 the next morning. She's doing the ride in a week.
White River, Ontario.White River apparently has a reputation for being the "birthplace" of Winnie the Pooh. It was also quite a remote town until the early 60's- In the late 1800's, it was a rail town and wasn't accessible by car until 1961. (thanks, Wikipedia) About 100 miles outside of White River, you'll start seeing these old wooden signs advertising WtP's origins in White River, and it makes you think it is some major attraction.
When you pull into White River, you'll realize that Canada has been lying to you. Sort of.
Apparently I didn't see all of White River, but what I did see were two hotels, a gas station and a donut shop. We pulled into the Continental Motel and walked into the lobby, where we were greeted by a 50-something woman (wearing a WtP sweater, of course) and her insane collection of Winnie the Pooh collectibles. It was like walking into an episode of Hoarders, but with WTP stuff on shelves. She was very nice, and told us to check out the Winnie the Pooh park located next door. She made it sound like it was an amusement park...
We got to the hotel room (A+ on cleanliness, by the way) and walked over to the attached restaurant for dinner. I had been craving pasta all day, so I was stoked to have some. I ordered a ravioli bowl thinking I was in for a bowl full of overstuffed beef ravioli. What I got was way different: A bowl of the tiniest raviolis possible, with a pea-sized amount of meat in each. The sauce was Ragu with leftover ground beef and lots and lots of celery. Celery? Who puts celery in their pasta?
And did I mention how cold it was up in White River? White River prides itself on being "The coldest spot in Canada" (which, after a little research, was proven to be wrong) and it had to be about 48-50 degrees up there, with rain. The next morning we departed for the border in a downpour, but only after stopping to see the famed "Winnie the Pooh Park".
Let me tell you about this "epic" park. Epic fail, more like it.
The park has a single statue of Pooh up in a tree with his jar of honey. It's old and the colors have faded. There's a podium in front of the statue with a plaque that used to be on it, which has been removed. There's a new-ish playground behind it, but none of the equipment was Pooh themed or even colored- it was all just yellow and blue. There's a sign out front that says "Come to the WtP Festival, held every August" and that was it. That was the park that had been advertised several times 100 miles back. Even as a child, I know I wouldn't have much fun there.
We got back on the road and traveled south towards the border. We were getting tired of Canada and her tricks.
Continued in pt. IV.
And did I mention how cold it was up in White River? White River prides itself on being "The coldest spot in Canada" (which, after a little research, was proven to be wrong) and it had to be about 48-50 degrees up there, with rain. The next morning we departed for the border in a downpour, but only after stopping to see the famed "Winnie the Pooh Park".
Let me tell you about this "epic" park. Epic fail, more like it.
The park has a single statue of Pooh up in a tree with his jar of honey. It's old and the colors have faded. There's a podium in front of the statue with a plaque that used to be on it, which has been removed. There's a new-ish playground behind it, but none of the equipment was Pooh themed or even colored- it was all just yellow and blue. There's a sign out front that says "Come to the WtP Festival, held every August" and that was it. That was the park that had been advertised several times 100 miles back. Even as a child, I know I wouldn't have much fun there.
We got back on the road and traveled south towards the border. We were getting tired of Canada and her tricks.
Continued in pt. IV.
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