Not a complete cock-up

Exam day.  Have come out of it feeling that I could probably have done a little better, but I reckon that I came out with a solid B+ at the very worst.  But then I’m a realist at heart.  It will be a very kind marker who gives me an A.  Did better than the last exam on my course, which came out as a solid B+, and so as long as I keep this up I’ll end up with a sound Canadian professional qualification and a good transcript to back it up.

No, seriously, it’s not all chaos.  I can cope with that.  What always hits me is the sense of numbness.  I’ve never been one for celebrations, as I’ve always found them premature.  I rarely celebrate my own triumphs or victories, and the most fate gets out of me is a grim smile of satisfaction on a job well done.  The whole whooping, singing and dancing that some folk go in for strikes me as somehow undignified.  I’ll gladly cheer on other people, but never myself.  Funny that.  Mainly because I know that there’s always something unforeseen.  A minor detail that sends everything tits up.  So I’ve been preparing for everything I can.

Tonight I pack.  Downtown tomorrow for a haircut and last minute fit of the vapours.  Thursday we’re off south of the border at sparrow fart.  Extra time has been factored in for heavy traffic and Victoria’s notoriously erratic downtown pedestrian population.  Although at the time we’re on the road, all the extra crusties kipping out back of the courthouse will still be snuggled in their sleeping bags.  So that’s at least one road hazard I won’t have to deal with on the way to the Coho ferry.

As a sidenote; temporary habitation was offered to the homeless on an “Until you get back on your feet” basis, but then some dingbat protester group from Vancouver pitched in, demanding ‘homes’ or nothing.  Like the rest of us don’t pay rent or mortgages, why should a bunch of freeloaders from the East get houses while the rest of us struggle?  I remain cynical.  No doubt by mid-May most of them will be off to Tofino to pollute the beaches and leach off the surfer population, as usual.  It really pisses me off when people have taxpayer dollar thrown at them, then whine about not getting soft toilet paper in their five star hotel.  Despite not doing anything to merit it.  Having sampled the dubious delights of sleeping rough when times were really bad I’m not totally unsympathetic.  However, I was never homeless for more than three days, and never, ever went into publicly owned or provided accommodation.  The thought never even occurred to me.

Anyway, that’s pretty academic.  Like the course I’ve just finished.  The car is ready.  I’ve made sure we’ve even got one of those emergency tyre repair thingies that will seal and re-inflate your tyre if you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere and out of cell phone range.  Handy if you’ve already used the spare.  Add to that a modestly well equipped first aid kit of my own construction, not one of store bought things full of stuff you’ll never need, and after packing we’re good to go.  What else?  Oh yes, a (very) rough map of our route.US Road Trip Map.jpg

First we’re heading down to Cali-forn-i-a to see the big trees and drink the wine, then cutting across via Vegas, Flagstaff, then down into Texas and across to Florida and back.  I’m verily skittish with anticipation.  All we have to do is follow the flags.  Or the Satnav.  Or the proper map we have in the car.  I hope.  Should be fun.

TTFN

Bill

 

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8 thoughts on “Not a complete cock-up”

  1. I tried that seal and re-inflate stuff once. It failed miserably. Worse yet, I got chastised by the mechanic. I guess they really hate those things. Probably makes a mess inside the rims. I’d use the spare tire – even those ‘donuts’ first, then straight to the nearest mechanic for a proper tire.

    I hope you have a very enjoyable trip. You’ll have seen more of America than I, when you’re done! I look forward to your updates, Bill.

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    1. Okay Scoakat, thanks for the warning. I was only going to use it in the extreme event we get more than one flat at a time. At twelve bucks a pop it’s a cheap enough precaution, even if it never gets used.

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  2. I do so hope you have a really good time.

    America has all become a bit too much for me. I wanted to be there when it was still wild and free, and a really glorious place. Live or die by your own efforts.

    And so to France. Not quite the same thing. But live or die I did.

    I suspect that getting out of Britain was the really brave thing.

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    1. Well, it won’t be for want of planning. I try to go by the rule of the P’s which goes; “Planning and preparation prevent piss-poor performance.”

      Seems to work.

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      1. Some of us just went for it without a sensible thought. Just get me out of here.
        As it happened, steps were taken to prevent me, but they failed miserably.
        Have a really good time. And then get back home to Canada.
        It never ceases to amaze me that America is All of the Americas. The whole thing. All of it. The US of A is such a small part.

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        1. My parents failed to prevent me too, but that was in the days before ‘the pill’ became mainstream.

          Many thanks for the good wishes and I will be reporting about our experiences as Wi-Fi and circumstance allow.

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