Still on the Road

Gravel to line the potholes.

You can brake for them, or weave through them.  The potholes, I mean.

Make the wrong decision and in a split-second, you could leave your transmission on the road.  On the trail, I mean.

I’ve practiced both maneuvers, with mixed results.  Never lost a transmission, but the trade-in value of my vehicles has always diminished radically.

The Guv’mint doesn’t play fair.  I’m referring to their PHSs.  You see, you can travel that trail in both directions on the same day and be thoroughly fooled.  I found myself navigating a clutch of potholes on the near-side of a blind hill, plain as daylight, and on my return trip on Sunday, that clutch had switched to the far-side of the hill, so I struck it full-bore when I came over the crest.

The Pot Hole Switchers work in secrecy.  They work by day and by night, yet you never see them.  They must be the best-paid Guv’mint employees in the North Country, for they get loads of overtime.  No one can say the Guv’mint is neglecting us, for they are pouring pots of money into our economy, straight into the holes.

You never know from one day to the next where the new potholes will appear.  In my case, on Sunday, I was fortunate.  The PHS crew had moulded the holes in soft gravel, and I just bounced for about ten minutes.

I have got to tell you about the rabbits. 

I have never seen so many rabbits in such a short space of time.  In the course of the last hour of my trip, I counted a rabbit a minute.

They were feeding in the loose gravel.  When I approached within a few metres, they hopped into the bush, their big white feet pumping away to lift their plump brown bodies.

I asked John about them.  They’re not rabbits, he said.  Well, I said, I know rabbits when I see them.  He said, They’re not rabbits.  They’re snowshoe hares.  Well, I thought, same thing.  Even if they’re wearing snowshoes.

John is a trapper and a naturalist.  The hares come out at dusk, he said, to feed on road salt and gravel.  Oh sure, I thought.  What does he know.

So I googled snowshoe hares.

I knew I could depend on the Science of Google.

(Continued in Chapter 4)

A wabbit disguised as a hare - note the snowshoes.


About EJ Lavoie

Writer and independent publisher with website www.WhiskyJackPublishing.ca
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