It has proven to be an uncommon perk of our 30-year partnership that my co-vivant and I do don’t compete to drive a car. Though Denis has had a driver’s license issued by the Province of Ontario since the age of about 18, I have never known him to drive (though he assures me he once drove drunken friends in their Lincoln Town Car from a late night bar; and, that he drove a friend’s Mustang home). He advises the licence was for ID purposes; and, by the way, that he had taken formal driving school lessons.
Since the day we first met at the Château Laurier Health Club (then expertly managed by Mesdames Prévost and Chartrand) and we afterwards began our 3-decade uninterrupted alliance (starting appropriately over a martini in a quiet bar in nearby By Ward market), it is I alone who has driven a car. And I have never been squeamish about being a chauffeur. In the event that you haven’t yet fully absorbed the merit of this distinction, permit me to iterate that having only one driver in the family eliminates the endless necessities associated with having two automobiles – capital cost, insurance, parking, and the myriad of other reasons supporting the New York City reason for proliferation of cabs. And it obviously eliminates any quibbling about who is going to drive.
Those of you who are best familiar with me know that driving is an unapologetic hobby of mine. My father who, parenthetically, was as devoted to cars as both I and his own father, bought me my first car. For much of my life (starting as soon as I learned that banks offered car loans) I bought a new car ritually every three years (after which the warranty expired). Then when I retired (and no longer had the tax deduction and commensurately discovered the avail of cash), I bought a new car every year.
My partner and I have made a habit for many years to conduct a Sunday drive. The motive is probably nothing more than a trifling venture but to me it signifies a necessity to feed the deprivation. In short, while I haven’t need for any reason whatever to drive, I am equally willing to confess the desperation of others to do so. But before you seek to extinguish my mockery, I will admit we’ve advanced the depth of the convention to include an agenda of mindful inquisition. That is, catching up upon details which inadvertently have become sidelined throughout the week.
Today’s dialogue focussed upon travel. In our effort to balance the advantage of Hilton Head Island and Longboat Key we came upon the resolve to investigate a membership in the Grande Ocean Marriott hotel for use of their pool. As you may already know, dear Reader, Hilton Head Island – though bordering the North Atlantic Ocean – is not a place for swimming in the winter (even in South Carolina). Renting a home for several months or more with a heated pool is out of the question. Besides I find pools belonging to homes are normally too small to gratify true athletic urge such as my own Olympic stimuli predict. Relying instead upon a hotel seems to be more expedient. Plus it serendipitously conjoins with our pioneering with one another.
In the past Denis swam at a recreation centre on the island but the Grande Ocean is more accessible. Constraints of any scope at our age are not to be discounted. This naturally presumes – and rightly so – that we also prefer staying in Sea Pines as opposed to any of the other plantations. We know it best and have been staying there exclusively since 2012 when we first discovered it. In fact, it was at the Grande Ocean that we were introduced to the island. And just for the record Grande Ocean is almost immediately at the gate leading into Sea Pines.
The gusto surrounding this proposal has encouraged us as well to consider acquainting ourselves with current border restrictions involving prolonged visit to the United States of America. I have suggested a short trip to Prescott along the St. Lawrence River may be in order to enquire what credentials are required. We already each have NEXUS cards but apparently the US government has enlarged the inquisition of foreign travellers to include further documentation. My thinking is that, if we were to address the mandate in advance, surely it would expedite the venture at a later date.
This, I suppose, is as good a time as any to address the elephant in the room; namely, what happened to all the rhetoric about travel by Canadians to the United States of America? My only defence – and, in my view, the only one required – is that our feelings we hurt by all that has lately been touted by the leaders of both countries. In retrospect it all sounds disturbingly familiar to a spousal feud. And like most such feuds, there is regret on both sides.
After having spent 6-months a year in the United States of America over the past decade and more, the alteration to travel plans has come as a shock. We are however beginning to re-evaluate the conversation; and, in its simplest terms, the prospect of returning to Land’s End on Hilton Head Island has overtaken us. We have so many reliable friends and business associates in the United States of America (including immediate relatives) that to conduct ourselves otherwise would be absurd. Below is the photo of a boardwalk upon which I have trod many times. It speaks for itself.
Photo: Marriott Grande Ocean