The Comedy Festival was going on in Montreal. We didn’t get to it.
As soon as the 401 (which is called the 20 in Quebec) welcomed us, I knew we were in for a ride. As we took the loop to merge on to the freeway we hit an infamous Quebec road patch. These are actually speed bumps that they just randomly plunk down to cover holes in the road. I was hanging on to the back of Alb’s seat, the post of which just sits loosely in a slot between our seats. We hit the bump and the seat back lifted and so did my butt. I actually got air time. I’m thinking that hanging on to a loose seat rest probably ain’t the smartest idea.
The spider web of roadways and the snarl of traffic moving at 110km/hr in Montreal made me laugh at the country back roads we thought were freeways in Gatineau and Ottawa. Of course the perspective on a bike is altogether different than being in a car. You get to smell all the exhaust, hear sounds much more clearly and you can’t see a thing beyond the semi trucks in front of you that are creating a wind tunnel that throws you back and forth.
It seems that a large percentage of drivers in Quebec like to put their indicators on and just leave them on until the next time they might need ‘em. You never really know if they are about to cut you off or worse if they can even see you. Defensive driving is the ticket that you need to survive.
While it was very scary on those roads, I wasn’t really afraid for my life. It is more like being on the scariest ride at the amusement park – it is fun and freaky and you want it to end yet you wanna keep going and get your money’s worth. I will say that Albert and Jesus are they only ones in the world that I would even consider taking that ride with and I was really glad I had ‘em both.
At one point at the crest of an overpass the tanker truck in front of us locked up his brakes to avoid something we couldn’t see. Through the blue smoke and stench of burning rubber I could just envision what Albert’s face was going to look like as a bumper sticker on the back of a tanker truck from New Jersey. Meanwhile the Audi 5000 flying up behind us would have looked lovely with my head as a hood ornament. (To the girls at Tropical: then truly I could be the only one to honestly say “I’m outy 5 towsand.”)
The whole time I was thinking, “I sure hope Barbee is taking pictures cuz I ain’t letting go of the grab handles that are permanently welded to my seat that I have held on to for the first time since we left home 5000 km ago and I realized I can’t depend on the seat back for safety.” Turns out Barbee had the same death grip on the truck grab handles. Ooops. I guess our experience in Montreal is one of memories only.
As soon as the 401 (which is called the 20 in Quebec) welcomed us, I knew we were in for a ride. As we took the loop to merge on to the freeway we hit an infamous Quebec road patch. These are actually speed bumps that they just randomly plunk down to cover holes in the road. I was hanging on to the back of Alb’s seat, the post of which just sits loosely in a slot between our seats. We hit the bump and the seat back lifted and so did my butt. I actually got air time. I’m thinking that hanging on to a loose seat rest probably ain’t the smartest idea.
The spider web of roadways and the snarl of traffic moving at 110km/hr in Montreal made me laugh at the country back roads we thought were freeways in Gatineau and Ottawa. Of course the perspective on a bike is altogether different than being in a car. You get to smell all the exhaust, hear sounds much more clearly and you can’t see a thing beyond the semi trucks in front of you that are creating a wind tunnel that throws you back and forth.
It seems that a large percentage of drivers in Quebec like to put their indicators on and just leave them on until the next time they might need ‘em. You never really know if they are about to cut you off or worse if they can even see you. Defensive driving is the ticket that you need to survive.
While it was very scary on those roads, I wasn’t really afraid for my life. It is more like being on the scariest ride at the amusement park – it is fun and freaky and you want it to end yet you wanna keep going and get your money’s worth. I will say that Albert and Jesus are they only ones in the world that I would even consider taking that ride with and I was really glad I had ‘em both.
At one point at the crest of an overpass the tanker truck in front of us locked up his brakes to avoid something we couldn’t see. Through the blue smoke and stench of burning rubber I could just envision what Albert’s face was going to look like as a bumper sticker on the back of a tanker truck from New Jersey. Meanwhile the Audi 5000 flying up behind us would have looked lovely with my head as a hood ornament. (To the girls at Tropical: then truly I could be the only one to honestly say “I’m outy 5 towsand.”)
The whole time I was thinking, “I sure hope Barbee is taking pictures cuz I ain’t letting go of the grab handles that are permanently welded to my seat that I have held on to for the first time since we left home 5000 km ago and I realized I can’t depend on the seat back for safety.” Turns out Barbee had the same death grip on the truck grab handles. Ooops. I guess our experience in Montreal is one of memories only.
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