The snow is crunching under the tires, spitting the remnants of salt and sand at the windshield of the car behind. By car, I am referring to the buggy whipped trucks, slithering cars and any other passenger toting vehicle that happens to be in the trucks rearview. It is very satisfying to drive the streets and watch the Christmas lights shimmer against the cold and the snow. This is hooliganting.
The first stop is the line up at Tim Hortons. Comparably short for this time of night, we are through just in time for shift change. This means that we have time to scrounge through all those change pockets and figure out how many pennies we can get rid of to lighten the load. Two steeped teas and ginger cookies later, the truck is magically transported to the land of memories and stories. This is the northern version of the fairy tale. There is ranting and venting, laughing and snorting, commentary and opinionating and underneath it all, it is that quiet that transends the moment to the experience of driving. Just driving.
The trees are lit. Snowmobiles are careening around the Syne. The teas are sipped. Movie listings are purused and mulled over. Still the truck drives on, humming on the words both spoken and not. Plans are made and rearranged and made again. The truck skims the ice and keeps going. There are deer nosing the ice and more lights dangling from balconies.
That was definately an hour or so well spent. There is that moment of hooliganting at its most elemental and basic. Time spent with a friend doing something that is simple, that matters. How often have you taken the time to just drive? What could you see? What have you missed?
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