New Gallardo - The First Two Weeks

Well… no one is more disappointed than me for dropping the ball here. But what has happened the last four weeks is a story in and of itself. I am sure the wrap up will be a disappointment as it’s more reflective at this point and as the weeks have gone by my memories has gotten faded.

Now where did I leave off?

“It was an uneventful 10 mile drive to the Canadian border.”

I pulled up to the border entry point and there was only one booth open. The look on the woman’s face was priceless. Even in the snow, she leaned fully out of the window to motion me forward. I really was relieved to be around other people… so much so, that I totally forgot about the small cache of “party favors” hidden in the car. Nothing like Schedule A drugs but more like leftovers from a few weeks prior (new car delivery celebraton!!). Bad time to remember them as you are pulling up to have a lovely chat with the Canadian Boarder patrol… I pull alongside and she starts running down the standard questions. “Where are you coming from?” Boston, ‘Where are you headed ‘eh?” Montreal, “How long do you plan on staying?” Just long enough to drop off the quarter ounce buried under the rear vanity shelf behind the seats… err… “I mean three days!”.

As she motions me through the gate she takes a phone call… and while speaking, holds her hand up for me to stop immediately. When she finishes the call I am now directed to pull into a line of parking spaces that run perpendicular to the Boarder Patrol building. I also see a Coke machine and immediately beeline to get a much needed to drink… but I only have US minted coins, so I’m out of luck…. a cold beer is probably completely out of the question over at the Duty Free shop so I sat tight. Then out of the building appears three different Canadian Police Officers [or is it] Boarder Control Agent’s, who approach the Gallardo. There was 2-3 inches that covered each flat surface of the car (front/rear lips and roof) and it was wet, dirty snow. If it were not for the overall car height and the rear badge it was impossible to know what type of car is was. All were smiling but the main guy with lots of decorations; he was shaking his head. Same stupid questions were asked that have plagued the trip each preceding stop. “What are you crazy”, and “You should turn around”… and then from Capitan Buck “You HAVE to turn around”… And he walked away and headed to go back into the building. I must have moved a little too quickly to chase after him, because as soon as I started to move the Jr. Bucks got animated. So I stopped and hollered instead… “I have to get though to Montreal. Going back to Burlington is not an option as the weather is now breaking here and it’s still a mess back that way.” The Captain curtly replied that “Back in Vermont there are trucks you can call and pay to have you towed out. We’re not picking up the tab to pull some fool out of a snow bank” and walked back though the building door. I am guessing here but it seems like in Canada there is an emergency service but in the end, tax payers foot the bill.

But I have Amex roadside that will meet me anywhere and dig/pull/plow me out for no charge. So I tell one of the now smirking Jr. Smoky Bears to pass along this info… along with a promise that if anything happens I would not try to make contact with any Canadian Roadside assistance trucks. A minute later the Capitan pops his head out again and says “I’m not letting you though when the conditions are what they are... end of story.” More smirks from the wannna-be Border Cops. “WAIT…. One last idea! I’ll write you a note to the effect that if anything happens I am completely on my own”…. I started to think about some life-or-death story but remembered I previously told the booth patrol lady I was going to Montreal to party straight for three days”… even a bribe crossed my mind at this point. I was so close I could smell the first Mojito. And then after thinking for a minute, out of nowhere he agreed. “I am going to put out an APB to ignore a red Lamborghini lying in the ditch on RT133 or RT10 as we have no responsibility to take care of you after we have warned of unsafe travel”… and the door slammed shut. It was my turn to throw a smirk back at the jr. trainers… I even asked if they had change for the soda machine.

So this is it… I am in Canada! The trip up RT33 to RT10 is mostly 4 lane back roads and after a few miles the snow had turned into wet mush as the air got much warmer. Probably 4-5 inches and it was quite heavy mush. I was doing well at around 20 mph and feeling very confident. Traffic had picked up moderately and there was no issue until a semi came barreling up behind me at what must have been 70 mph. I didn’t think anything of it until the cab was parallel with me and then a wave of this wet slosh hit the windshield and blacked out the entire car in a matter of seconds. I went on autopilot and eased on the breaks... the sound of the truck was deafening a it went by. I jumped out once the truck had passed and using gloves, removed the slush milkshake from the windshield, lights and all windows. Jumped in, got started and two minutes later it happened again… I got a suspicion that after each truck passed, a radio signal went back to the next on-coming truck that I had become the entertainment for the evening. I’m sure the Border Patrol had something to do with this… But I did figure out a way to at least slow down to a stop, let the truck pass, get out and clear and get moving all under a minute. After about 35 miles of this I saw the signs for RT10 and the final approach into Montréal was largely uneventful…

I check in at the W, go to the bar before my credit card was even run and for the next three days, told the story to my mate Julian as well as anyone that would listen. Even now it still has limited value at holiday parties where everyone is in a drunken stupor.

In closing, I once again have to mention what a special place Montréal has always been and will be to me. Extremely kind and friendly people, very accepting and up for anything. The food is spectacular as is the adventure of eating… 3 hour dinners starting at 11 p.m., then across town for desert (another hour) and at least three nightclubs before the sun comes up at 6 a.m. And the women!!! Visionary in every respect… clothes, character, attitude and a general lack of pretentiousness. Every visit I meet up with my posse and by the end of the night we are rolling with women 4-5 deep. I (of course) uphold my commitment to being married so it ends there… my wife knows my dedication and actually approves of my debauchery. So thank you Montréal for all that you are and I’ll see you in April… maybe with a group from around New England? It’ll be a ride that you’ll never forget, I can promise!

Um. The End.

Happy Holidays,
Billy
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I re-read that part. It came off wrong… Julian is a club promoter and knows everyone including loads of pretty women… but I behave, we just hang out, dance and party (sounds like I’m guilty as hell, no?). They are amazing friends for all the right reasons; most don’t even know about the cars or would give a rats bum if they did.

And thanks for the comments on the color. I was going to go with yellow or orange but my better half loved this color and it has grown on me tremendously.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!