The Monday Drive
Today at about noon I drove away from my ex-wife’s house, where I’d just dropped off our 3.5-year-old son. I’d had him at my place for a good stretch so almost immediately in the car that weird mix of elation and sadness washed over me. The burden of caring for the kid was suddenly gone but the kid, too, was suddenly gone.
Briefly I thought about what I might do with my place to myself and yet I had absolutely no desire to return there. I was driving, after all, out in the world, propelling a vehicle under my own command, free. The emotions were mixed but I liked the feeling if only because it was a feeling. These days, isolated because of the virus, I guess I’m getting used to the numbness. It was raining, not heavily, but just enough so that everything was wet and alive. Instead of turning right, I turned left, and kept driving.
Last summer, for a song, I bought a sport edition 2010 Kia Forte Koup. It’s got a stick shift and a sun roof and a great stereo. Sure, it’s a little bit of a mid-life crisis car. I’m willing to own that. It’s also, without a doubt, my favorite among the cars that I’ve owned. They are becoming extinct, but the stick shift makes for a more active experience. As my father once said, with a manual transmission you feel like you’re driving the car.
Right away I knew the route I’d take. It’s a beautiful drive that I’ve done a few times as an end in itself, heading west along the two-lane Highway 148 away from Gatineau and into the Pontiac region. On your left you have intermittent big views of the river, farm lands opening up, quirky houses, and old barns that are stubbornly hanging on. On your right you have strawberry picking operations (now closed), churches, weird dépanneurs, baseball fields, and breathtaking views of the Outaouais hills. The hills eventually veer close enough to the road that you want stop the car, hop out, and start climbing. It’s the kind of drive where you see snowmobiles put out with for sale signs and hot rods displayed proudly on the lawn.
Today there were no beautiful blue skies but again the rain had made everything more colourful and sad so that now my external and internal worlds were perfectly aligned. The grass that has begun to turn green seemed really green. The tree trunks and branches were an alluring dark brown, verging on black. With the mist and white skies as a backdrop, everything seemed all the more vibrant.
I saw no people; only cars. I drove past a restored old pickup truck painted a bright shade of aquamarine. Most of this stretch has a 90-click speed limit but none of the vehicles on the road with me seemed in a hurry. Still, when an extra lane appeared temporarily for passing, I took advantage and sped up to overtake the black SUV on my right.
The roads were wet enough for accumulated puddles. When I was just about level with the SUV we hit a big one and the splash was more than enough to completely blind me. In the half-second or so before the windshield wipers could clear the water, for just those few moments I thought about death.
