I’m alone in my car, driving to Nelson to see my grandkids. I’ve got some CD’s ready for action, some blues and Beatles, John Prine and Eminem and a few others, and if I get bored of these I’ll just sing, or practise my Richard Nixon and Merv Griffin impressions. It’s quite a drive. It takes 11 or 12 hours to get to Nelson, and I’ll be there for a few days before pointing the car the other way to come home again when once again I’ll be either playing CD’s, singing, or doing two lousy impressions.
Is that interesting?
What about this? According to the British newspaper The Guardian, (and I have no idea why The Guardian has mentioned Nelson), “Nelson was able to make the transition from a typical rural lumber town into a thriving arts and mountain sports hotbed, due in part to the wealth generated by marijuana growers.”
Or this? Nelson doesn’t have a McDonald’s. I thought every town over 5000 people had a McDonald’s.
But enough about Nelson. I’ve got four little rugrats to visit, along with their mom Shannon who happens to be my daughter, and her husband Ryan who I couldn’t be more happy with for a son-in-law, even though he prefers football over the Habs.
I’m on my way. I’m somewhere, maybe on a ferry, or savouring the sweet aroma of chicken farms near Chilliwack, or zooming past Hope, or eyeballing the desert landscape around Osoyoos, or hugging my family and getting knocked around by this big, friendly rottweiler they have.
But please carry on. Just thought I’d mention the trip, that’s all..