What could go wrong?

Growing up, I was given the nickname of ‘Flash’. I used to, and continue to, make decisions without ever thinking of the consequences those decisions will have. Recently I made the decision to move across Canada. What brought on that decision? A bad mental headspace. The feeling of being stuck in both my professional life and my personal life. Needing a change. I had no idea what I wanted my next steps to be, but I knew I needed a change, and a big one at that. So instead of doing what any rational person would do, and change their job, or their city, or take some time for a change of scenery. I made the choice to move across the country. Away from everything I knew, all my family. Without a job, or a place to live. I spent very little time looking into the cost of living somewhere. I just made the decision. Convincing a friend of mine, and a friend of his, to come with me. So here we were, going big, and NOT going home. We loaded our vehicles with as much as we could fit, towed my Mazda with his 1991 Chevy Rally van. In our load of things, this man loads a Transmission into the back of his van. Weird, right? But Mr. Mechanic wanted to make sure he was prepared if anything came up. Next came the over abundance of tools, I have never even seen. With everything loaded and ready to go, away we went. Passing through towns I have never even heard of.

Day 1 brought us to the town of Cochrane, where we called it a night and slept in the parking lot of a Giant Tiger. If traveling across the country isn’t bonding, I really have NO idea what is.

Day 2 brought on more troubles than I had anticipated. Passing a sign of ‘Limited services’ beyond this point, seeing it when it was too late, ended us on a little road ‘Windigokan Lake rd’. His overly large van with a trailer on the back, extremely low on gas, on this very narrow road, with what seemed to be no place to turn around. 39 km from the nearest gas station. 39km we certainly did not have in this vehicle. To say panic set in quickly, is an understatement. After many failed attempts to turn around on this little road, I journeyed with Mr. Mechanics friend, Mr. Ride-along, those 39km to the gas station, thinking we were kinda doodled, as it was now getting dark. We arrived at this gas station 20 minutes before they closed, knowing we wouldn’t make it back with the van before closing. While filling our only, very small jerry can, Mr. Ride-along began chatting with the woman running ‘Spirit Bay gas bar’, who was a wonderful woman. During this casual conversation she became concerned that our 5L can was not going to give us enough to get the Chevy back to this station. So there began the hunt for another Jerry can. Sadly unable to locate. This woman called her father, who then drove out 2 cans of gas to Windigokan, saving the day. This woman also came back after hours to fill the van to ensure we had enough gas to get us to the next town, without issues. Without this family, we would have been stuck there for quite a few hours, in the middle of nowhere.

Day 3 brought us little issues, and lots of jokes.

Day 4 on the other hand, was quite the adventure. On highway 16, passing through Manitoba, the Transmission blew. Go figure. But don’t forget Mr. Mechanic brought a spare Transmission, which I certainly did not think would come in handy. Blood, sweat, many profanities, and 4 hours later, Transmission was replaced and back on the road we were. Now making up for lost time. Being very careful with the gas pedal so as to not cause another thing to go wrong. We called it a night in Saskatchewan, in the parking lot of a Comfort Inn.

Day 5 began with an early start and very little sleep. In an attempt to get us to Edmonton in time for a job interview. Passing the Alberta border line, which, to my surprise, was a streetlight. 94 km from where we needed to be, our Tranny line blew, and man did I have to pee. Mr. Mechanic fixed it as quickly as he could, putting us back on the road in under an hour. We made it 80km away from where we needed to be when it blew again, to which Mr. Mechanic also fixed in a timely fashion. My bladder was continuing to struggle. Constant reminders from myself that I am 22, fully potty trained adult. I could hold it. I wasn’t much help in the vehicle repair department, the least I could do was hold my bladder. 74 km away from where we needed to be, we pooched out again. Tranny line. I have never had to pee so bad in my entire life. Mr. Ride-along was traveling for tranny fluid. To which I was invited to join in an attempt to relieve my banshee screeching bladder. I traveled with Mr. Ride-along to the small town of Tofield.While in Tofield, we retrieved a fuel line. Returning to Mr. Mechanic, covered in a nice thick layer of Transmission fluid, who takes the line and fixes it at the side of the highway. Getting us to where we needed to be as quickly as he could, filled with apologies.

When we arrived we spent a couple nights sleeping in the Van. Fortunately it only took us three days to find a place to call home. Now we’re living in a 3 bedroom house, with a cat who likes to hide under the kitchen counter. We haven’t been here long, but it is now home.

When I made the decision to move across the country, that is certainly not how I envisioned the trip going. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure I would have chosen the trip to go differently. I had the opportunity to experience things I never would have. I got to bond with two people I never would have expected to be such wonderful human beings. I laughed, a genuine laugh. Which is a sound I forgot I was able to produce. Mr. Mechanic and Mr. Ride-along made the trip of a lifetime, uprooting their lives, as anxiety free as possible. When I sit and think about it, if the option was there, I don’t think I would have made the trip with anybody else. I got here safe, happy, and with one hell of a story.