Notwithstanding the current withdrawal of Canadians from the United States of America, after having spent 6 months of the year there for the past decade, I continue – as though by irrepressible habit – to remark upon the domestic differences in the two latitudes.  As mundane as it is, one of the primary differences is that relating to my driving habits.

When we were on Hilton Head Island, Longboat Key or Key Largo, I prolonged (but confined) my routine daily outing to a visit to the local car wash. The reason for the limited scope (as opposed to the far more expansive tours I regularly conduct on home territory) is that here there are easily accessible open highways throughout Lanark County, Carleton County and Renfrew County. The intermittent adventures along the North Atlantic coast or the Florida Keys were always exhilarating but the travel was far less serene than my habitual drives throughout the local rural countryside.

Today I coincidentally passed a milestone: namely, 18,086 Kms almost exactly three months following the purchase of the car on February 17th last. I mention this, not for its aggregate significance – there are many who proclaim much higher “mileage” – rather to observe the clockwork of 6,000 Kms per month which, when considered in the context of retail trade, heralds the dealership preference for 30,000 Kms or less. This alignment with trade-in value naturally predicts the most attractive bottom line for the new vehicle.

This minor insight into the vulgar mechanics of swapping cars – new for old – is further recognition of the imperatives to preserve automotive serendipity. In short, I get a bang out of driving.  I blame my father.  He was the same way.  Indeed he was so enamoured by his vehicle that it was not uncommon for him to take off without prior notice to New Brunswick (where he owned 200 acres). He would routinely drive non-stop. Although he did not trade cars frequently as do I, it was not beneath him to contact the manufacturer directly (as he did while living in Stockholm) and have a new automobile shipped across the ocean to Rotterdam for pick-up. The vehicle – though labelled by undistinguished hoots from the French when subsequently passing through the Pyrénées en route to the Costa Brava as “votre camion” – attracted considerable attention from the Europeans who frequently stopped my father while driving to enquire into its possible sale. It was perhaps an expiation of his own unique profligacy.

The monotony of my own illustration of the parental trait is not limited to the mere driving experience. Undeniably I am consumed by the perfection of the vehicle itself – its comfort, its balance, the electronic wizardry.  In addition the agility of the car is a metaphor which conveniently complements my physical inadequacy.  I may no longer be capable of enduring mobility (my spine is havoc), but once the seating in the car is arranged to my satisfaction – including the application of heat, massage and recline – I perceive a vicarious accommodation and psychological improvement. The initiation of these refinements requires opportunity – for which I include the advantage of lengthy and serene roads. During that time, I commensurately dissolve my tension – albeit a deceitful accomplishment.