CANADIAN TIRE WOODSTOCK. TIRES PLUS HERNDON. GRAND CHEROKEE SPARE TIRE.
The Long Road To Woodstock---At The Edge Of A Town In Western Ontario
It was late in the day on August 10th, I think. Maybe six o'clock or so. Western Ontario seemed to go on for ever, and the hitch-hiking was rough. I met a guy who said he had been stuck in the same place for a week. I never had a problem like that, but three or four hour waits were not uncommon. I was on the outskirts of some town out there in the middle of nowhere, somewhere like Kenora or Dryden (it may have been Dryden). They've got running water and electricity, but you don't exactly have the feeling that you're in the heart of civilization. Still, I wasn't really looking forward to leaving this outpost-of-progress---Thunder Bay was over a hundred miles away, and between there was nothing but a bunch of Canadian trees. I was standing out on the eastern edge of the town, looking up a hill. All-of-a-sudden there was a girl on a bicycle coming down the hill. Then there were more girls. Soon there were twenty girls on bicycles, flying down the hill towards me. As they went by, they were smiling and waving. Suddenly I didn't feel like doing any more hitchhiking that day. It didn't take a genius to figure that the girls were going to be stopping in Dryden It was going to be dark soon, and the next town to the west was, well, a long Canada carry away. They probably wouldn't be heading on west that night. So I turned around and walked back in to town. I didn't have to go that far before I came to a laudromat, with a bunch of girls inside doing laundry. Not long after I had gone inside, the girls had added my dirty clothes to their wash, and they had crowded around me to tell me their story. They all were from Montreal or Toronto. I'm not sure who had the idea or how they got together, but they had conceived the idea to cycle from Montreal (or maybe they set out from Toronto) to Vancouver. When they got there, they were going to try to get funds so they could go to the Osaka World's Fair, which was going to be the next year. When I got my laundry back, my underwear was pink. How that happened I don't know, but at least I hadn't had to wash it myself. I followed the girls back to wherever they had their headquarters (they may have been staying at a hostel, and I think maybe they had a car or truck or van or something following along with them, carrying their gear, spare parts, tires, etc.) They all were going out to a pub or bar or somewhere to get something to eat, or have a drink, and of course I finagled an invitation to go with them. I don't remember the substance of our conversation. Several of the girls were very friendly, and after I had explained my destination and the purpose of my trip, a few of the girls volunteered addresses of people in Toronto and Montreal, people they said I should contact when I got there. Ginette, a girl from Montreal, was especially kind. At some point, she wrote a little letter and addressed it to her parents in Montreal and gave it to me. She said if I got to Montreal, I should give her parents a call, and tell them that I had the letter and wanted to bring it to them. There was at least one other guy there with the girls. He had met them in Thunder Bay, where he lived, and had taken to fancy to one of the girls. I don't remember his name, but as the night wore on and I realized I had no place to stay, I got to talking to this guy. He was going to drive his truck back to Thunder Bay the next morning and get his stuff, because he had decided to follow the girls-on-bicycles all the way to the west coast. The girl he liked had already lost interest in him, but there were twenty of them, and he was full of enthusiasm for their project. He may have even picked out a new subject for his affections. That he had been married for three months to some girl in Thunder Bay was only a minor complication. He had conceived an antipathy for his new bride that he may have explained (and I've forgotten), and perhaps she was mere victim of his new immature infatuation. Regardless, he had nothing good to say about the wife. The fellow from Thunder Bay said he would give me a ride in the morning. We said our goodbyes to the girls, and we drove out to some backwoods dirt road, where we spent a most uncomfortable night sleeping upright in the Thunder Bay fellow's truck.woodstock yolunda
woodstock'a gitmek icin gloucester green'den otobuse bindim. tubney house d?s?nda ilk kez sehir d?s?na c?k?yorum. cift katl? otobusun ust kat?nda sahane manzaran?n tad?n? c?karmaya cal?s?rken bir yandan da haritay? inceliyorum. old woodstock'ta inecegim. neyse ki fuca'n?n da otobuse bindigini gordum. christine'in evini bulmak zor olmayacak. yar?m saat sonra old woodstock'a ulast?g?m?zda fusa'dan ogreniyorum ki yaln?z ikimiz gidiyormusuz... hay allah! benim elimde bir de kek var... misafirlige gidiyorum ya elim bos olmas?n adettendir... christine, el isleriyle has?r nesir bir kad?n. kanavice isimi al?r almaz arkas?na bak?yor... temiz cal?st?g?m? gorunce aferin al?yorum. cokkkk titiz biri. ikinci isime, bu kanaviceleri christmas'taki cocuklar yarar?na olan bir kermes icin haz?rl?yoruz, baslayacakken o modeldeki tum renkleri bulmam icin ?srar ediyor... bana kalsa elimde hangi renkler varsa onlar? uydururum... ne de olsa k?rm?z? kardanadam yapm?s biriyim...
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