My Roadtrip to Mahone Bay

Free Web Hosting Provider - Web Hosting - E-commerce - High Speed Internet - Free Web Page

Welcome to the informal essay I wrote about my road trip to Mahone Bay that I took in the summer of 1998. This essay provides a humorous outlook on the zanny adventures that my friends Scott Ingraham, John Dewolfe, and myself got into that August day. Originally published on my original Geocities web site, I decided to edit it some, and post it here for you all to see. I hope you enjoy, and find a smile or two along the way.

And when you're done reading, feel free to drop by the photo archive of the trip...

The wonderful day started when I received a phone call at 9:00 in the morning from my good friend, Scott Ingraham. Scott was leaving to Alberta a few days later, and wanted to drive down to Mahone Bay for the day, to take pictures, and more importantly... spend one last day with John DeWolfe and I. Scott had lived in Mahone Bay for several years when he was young, and wanted some pictures he could take back to Alberta with him.

Mahone Bay. About an hour and a half away from Metro (Halifax for those of you who aren't Haligonians). Home of the world famous three churches... A glorified text book example of a fishing village... Home of Big Ed's bargain store... Out in the middle of no-where, on the way to Bridgewater... A nice town to drive through, but not a place I'd like to set up camp in.

We left around 10:15 Am., and the sun was out showing the signs a of a beautiful Summer day. Anyway, the trip starts with a quick trip to the local Shopper's Drug Mart to buy film for the camera. I decide to shell out, and buy that expensive 400 36 roll of Kodak film for my camera. I get in the car and try to load it up... but my batteries were dead. By the time I realized this, we were too far from home to turn around, without losing a bit of time. So I ran into the next SDM we came across, and bought a cheap $12.99 Kodak disposable camera ($12.99 for a no flash camera for outdoor use only... argh).

Back on the road. We leave Metro listening to the tunes of Veruca Salt as we head South into the countryside en route to one of the craziest days I've ever had in my whole meaning-less life...

Now, for most cars, it would take about an hour and a half to reach Mahone Bay from Dartmouth... but not for good ol' Scott Ingraham. Scott's '88 Camry makes it down there in about an hour, after pushing around 140 km/h (about 85 mph for my American friends) for most of the ride.

We enter the quaint little village (I can't say town with a clear conscience) and the first thing Scott wants to do, is drive up to his old elementary school for pictures and what not. So we park in the parking lot, and file out to the mediocre playground. I'm not much to critique playgrounds, but I have to say that playgrounds of today suck... But that's a whole different topic which I hope to cover some day. Scott informs us of what used to be in the playground, and what didn't. After that, Scott resorted to his primal instinct to climb a tree he always wanted to climb as a little kid. After breaking a few branches, he made it up but had a hard time coming down. Luckily, me being the good friend that I am, I tried to bash the tree and his ankle with one of the branches that fell from the tree. That got Scott right out of there. After I briefly chased John around with the branch, and after he took a tumble on some loose rocks and busted his elbow open (He's hard-core, but he's no Mick Foley), we went for a walk through the woods.

Wow. As eventful as that could be, John De and I were both thoroughly intrigued as Scotty I showed us where he and his little playmates of yester-year used to make forts and and play guns. Yay. Scott literally had to drag us out of the woods as we approached the local swimming pool and baseball field (yes, that's right... they've discovered baseball). It was then that we asked Scott why we haven't seen any teenagers around... Scott's reply was brief... subtle.. and perhaps questionable.

The man's words speak mountains. Anyway, we wandered back to the car after this thrilling dazzle of excitement and suspense, and drove down to the Save Easy, which in turn is run by Atlantic Wholesalers, whom employ me at the Dartmouth Superstore. We walked around the wharf after this. Nothing too eventful. After that we discovered Big Ed's Bargain Store. I wanted to meet Big Ed, but Scott said he was dead. After a suitable period of mourning, I bought an ice cream bar, and we headed out to find lunch. After an hour of arguing on where we would go (of the 4 choices), we discover this small diner, which looked like a good place to go. So in we went...

Before we went inside, I took a peak at the menu posted outside. Aside from all kinds of sea food, I saw... hamburgers... chicken burgers... hot dogs... but no french fries. I said that was rather peculiar that this place didn't serve french fries, or any other side dish at all. But Scott reassured me that they would have french fries in there...

We walk in, and sit down enjoying the... home-like atmosphere of the place (literally, it felt like home). The owner came up to us with his list, and handed us menus. And the first thing he said was...

The look on my face said it all. This man had no french fries... this man was crazy. After ragging out Scott for his stupid guarantee, our orders came. John had a hamburger with all the fixings... Ingraham had a hot dog with some of the fixings... and I had a chicken burger with just lettuce. Now what is wrong with -just- lettuce? The guy makes fun of me, telling me how boring I am. I'm thinking... here's a moron who doesn't sell french fries at his restaurant... and now he's making fun of me?!? That's not just silly, it's illogical. Anyway, no french fries. Our first bad thing to happen... of the many to come.

I ate my chicken burger, only to discover that it's all dark meat. I'm not a fan of dark meat, but I ate it any way to be polite. But who else sells dark meat chicken burgers? KFC? Nope. Wendy's? Not in your life. Hell, even McDonalds sells white meat. Anyway, I ate the utility grade chicken burger... Scott couldn't even finish his hot dog, it was that awful. Strike two.

After lunch, we wandered around some more. I noted the serious lack of teenagers around the neighborhood, but Scott brought it back to my attention that they are all probably still in jail. Finally, I demanded some decent french fries and we were on our way to Bridgewater and the nearest McDonalds. When we got back to the Save Easy parking lot, we discovered that someone in the parking lot had rear ended Scott's car, and parked it in position. This got Scott very angry... even though Scott's rear bumper was over the parking line (so who's fault is that Nature Boy?). Scott took it upon himself to take photo's, copy down the license number and write a really nasty letter. There was no damage to his car though, so Scott didn't leave behind the letter for the unsuspecting victim.

After about two minutes on the road, Scott's car suddenly jerks a bit, and makes a few funny sounds. Scott gets worried, but I don't buy it. Scott's had a history of faking car troubles before, just to scare his compatriots in the car. But down the road, it happened again. Only for a more extended period of time. Now, none of us know anything about cars, but we could tell it was coming from the engine. So the car starts to act up every time we push the engine above 50 kph. Not good... not good at all. We continue like this though for about ten minutes until we reach an Ultramar/Kwick Mart combination. Scott pulled into the parking lot, and looks under the car seeing if anything was dragging. Nope. Perfectly fine. Hmm... Now our debate began. Do we get the Ultramar guys to take a look under the hood, which may cost unnecessary money? Or do we continue on our way to Bridgewater, where we have our choice of gas stations, and restaurants which sell french fries...

After going about eight kilometers down the road, bam! The problem starts again, only louder this time...D'oh. We instantly decide that we are not going to make it to Bridewater like this, and we have to turn back to the Ultramar.

We have to continue several kilometers down the road though, before we could find a place to turn around. Soon, we find a street going uphill on the left. We turn up it, and pull into the first driveway we could find. Mistake #3. The house looked bare... two cars in the drive way... a barnlike structure standing in the back... and that's it. The mail box read Jane something. I forget the last name. Anyway... we pull in... Scott throws the car into reverse... BAM! Sounds as if something in the engine were revving up for destruction. Mere words cannot describe the sound we heard... but needless to say, that car wasn't going -anywhere-.

After a few minutes, we try again. Same sound, same trouble. We weren't going anywhere. So we do what all men would do. Get out, pop the hood, stand and look macho. We all look under the hood, not knowing a thing about fixing cars, and discover that everything looks fine. Scott says maybe we need oil? Scott's good for that. It's the only thing he knows how to do (which is more than I could say). So we're in this drive way, with the back part of the car sticking out into the road for about ten minutes. The time is approximately 4:00 in the afternoon...

On a side note, my family has a cell phone. We usually bring it with us when going out with the car, or any trip we take, just in case the car breaks down. To date, we haven't had any break downs. I ask my Mom if I can take the phone with us... She replies with...

Mom: "No... you probably won't need it. Besides, you probably won't get any service there anyway."

Well, I sure wish I had that phone. Anyway, back on track... After ten minutes of standing around, worrying... the door to the house bursts open, and out runs a big German Sheppard dog, and a bigger man. The dog instantly begins to bark loudly, and charges us. The looks on our faces said it all... "Oh man, we're all going to die.". The man was pretty large... his teeth looked to be in terrible shape, and I had troubles making out what he said. I know he told us not to worry about the dog, but when I see a German Sheppard charging me, barking like that, I'm not exactly going to reach out and pet the damn thing. I know Scott & John have a fear of dogs... I'm not a fan of 'em when they're that big, and charging at me. Anyway, Scott explains the car trouble to the guy, and appologizes for being in the driveway. He says no trouble. It turns out that despite looking scary, the man was very nice. I wish I could say the same for his dog. The guy looks under the hood, and Scott tries to back up again, showing him the problem. Scott asks him if he knows anything about cars:

Al right, that's reassuring. We eventually discover that the car will work, when going straight, but not going in reverse. Hmmm.... we pool the collective brain power of the four of us and decide to hit the car in neutral, and push the car back onto the street (which ends up being uphill). Lucky for me, I was the one inside the car steering whilst those clowns pushed. Ya mules, ya! If I had a whip... anyway.

We promptly thanked the man for helping us out, and for keeping his savage dog at bay. So off we go to Ultramar! Now.. it's just after 4:00, and Scott has to be in Metro by 5:30 so he can pick his mom up at work. Place your bets now ladies and gentlemen... Two minutes down the road... bam... wheez... chug... BAM!!! Now, it sounds as if something in the engine has exploded. We instantly pull over to the side of the road, and as Scott stops the car, we hear the sound of water spraying... Stick a fork in the car, because it is done...

We decided now that now we were screwed. Scott gets out, and places one of those reflective triangles at the rear of the car, and we pop the hood. Now we look stuck. As those two stood outside, my job was clear and simple. Operate the emergency blinkers. Woo hoo! Since Scott's blinkers are broken however, and I have to manually flick them on, off, on, off, on, off etc etc, to simulate the emergency blinking. That actually gets tiring after a while...

I'd say... ten minutes go by (felt like a good twelve... maybe thirteen). John and I were each enjoying a warm can of pepsi... Making fun of Scott the entire time. Heh heh... Then, our saviour arrived. We spotted a police car approaching us in the mix of traffic, and Scott miraculously waves him down (more like jumps in front of it). The police officer pulled over, and Scott told him the story. I still sat in the car blinking those damn lights, with De standing beside me on the shoulder of the road, as we made fun of Scott yet again...

After several minutes (give or take a few seconds) Scott returns to the car, and tells us that we have to push it off the road. What the Hell?!? We are off the road! Well.. turns out the back tire was still on the paved section. Good greif. Anyway... Scott & John pushed, as I steered again (heh heh, suckers) but this time, I had the responsibility of applying the emergency brake. With that said and done, another RCMP cruiser pulls over, perhaps investigating and seeing if the first one needed back up handling these dangerous and maniacal city boys. We made referrence to Scott sitting in a police cruiser saying this isn't the first time (but in fact it was... at least that we know of), and to our chagrin, he agreed. Damn bastard ruined the joke. Anyway. After the 2nd car drove off, De offered him a Steve-Weiser (can o' pepsi) but he politely declined.

Then he approached the car. It must have looked like some sort of a bust or something. Some idiot yocals drove by, pointed and laughed. I could hear their redneck voices, making fun of d'em d'er city boys. I brought a curse down on their pig farm...

Anyway. The officer told us to take all our valuable possesions, and lock up the car. With that we filed into the police car; the officer driving, De in the front seat, and me and the Nature Boy in the back. I'd hate to be a fat criminal. There is absolutley no leg room in those things because of that bullet proof plastic thing they put up. I know they aren't exactly built for comfort, but I hardly see a 350 pound drunk fitting well in the back. The cop made conversation with us, but wouldn't let us play with the sirens... Lousy son of a... Well, all joking aside, he was really nice to us. He joked along with us all the way up the road to the Ultramar where he let us out. We waved good bye, with an all new respect for the police force.

With that, the first thing we had to do was call home. For John and I, that's no big deal. We weren't under any time pressure, and it wasn't -our- car that broke down. De didn't even bother calling, but I called my mom and let her know I'd be late. Scott on the other hand... well, I'm glad I wasn't in his situation. He didn't exactly tell his parents he'd be going out to Mahone Bay for the day with the car. He called, but his sister was the only one home. He told her all she needed to know, and hung up. We could see how bad Scott was feeling, so being the true friends that John and I, we made fun of him some more. It helped us cope with things. And Scott... well... it was -his- car that broke down. Also, it's -his- dumb luck. Seriously. The guy has the worst luck of anyone I know. Maybe some day, I'll post other stories about how unlucky the guy is.

We went to the Ultramar, and asked about a tow back to Metro. They were very nice to us in there, and hooked us up with one of their connections with a tow truck. Scott called the guy, and he was told it would cost $175 to get back to Dartmouth. Just then, another Ultramar guy stepped in and said he'd give us a tow for $50. Scott just hung the phone right up, and instantly began to praise the man, informing him of his apparent greatness. Unfortunately, the guy thought that Scott was only interested in a tow back to the gas station. Scott smacked himself on the forehead, sensing how much of an idiot he looked like, as the owner of the Ultramar called the tow truck guy back up, and performed one of the slickest moves I've ever seen...

Guy: "Yeah, hello? Sammy, what the Hell are you doing hanging up on my customer like that! I try to give ya business, and that's how you repay me, by hanging up on 'em?!?"

The guy on the other end of the phone line accused Scott of being a hustler, saying that he didn't hang up on us. But the owner insisted that it wasn't our faulght, and sweet talked the guy into giving us the tow. It still stands out as one of the slickest things I've ever seen. Kudos to Ultramar. So we had to wait a while for this guy to bring his tow truck up to the gas station. Now, I was getting hungry...

So I went to the Kwick Way and bought a bottle of pepsi, bag of chips and a box of Runts candy. I needed sugar, and I needed to spend money. It's a way to calm & relax myself. I think De bought a sandwhich...

Eventually, the tow truck arrived, and we all filed into the cab. Four guys. Two bookbags. No room. So we drive out to the car, discussing what happened with the driver, whom was also very nice. He insulted the guy at Ultramar, calling him two faced and a schemer, and he can't really be trusted. But I guess that's the way it is out there. Dog eat dog. Kill or be killed. Cheat-To-Win. I dunno.

Anyway, we get back to the car, throw our stuff in the back and grab a few cans of pop for the long trip back to Metro. Here's a weird thought for you, that I was thinking while sitting in the cab of that tow truck...

Have you ever felt like Posh Spice? You know who I mean. Victoria. The ritzy one. The flashy one. And let's face it Spice-Fans... the snobby one. Yes, I said it. The snobby one. I mean, it's not like you're being a snob saying "I'm better than you"... but just feeling out of place. As I sat in that tow truck for the next two and a half hours, I kept pondering this thought... am I the Posh Spice of my group? Maybe it was the pepsi talking, or the bad chicken burger's thoughts, I don't know. All I can say is I felt like Posh Spice. And I think it's high time we all look deep inside and ask ourselves... "Which Spice Girl... am I?".

I promise, that's the only mention of Spice Girls on this page. We made plenty of conversation with the driver. When you drive for two and half hours, going 90 kph, with no radio, you eventually talk. We all exchanged stories about Mahone Bay, The World Wrestling Federation, our wives (okay, he talked about his wife, we just listened), the cops, other tow jobs he did, and just about anything and everything else. It really brought me a new retrospective of the country life down near Mahone Bay, something I must say I was lacking before. John was unusually quiet through all of this. Perhaps it's his way of coping with the fact Scott Ingraham is an idiot, I dunno. After nearly getting lost on the highways (He didn't want to bring it through Halifax, across the bridge into Dartmouth), and two and a half hours later, we arrived back in Dartmouth. We had to stop at a bank though, so John could withdraw some cash to pay the man with. Unfortunately, he wouldn't do it for pepsi. I got out at the bank, and walked home as it was closer. After all I went through, I didn't mind a fifteen minute walk home.

They took the car back to Scott's, and that's the end of it. We were all home, safe and sound. In the end, Scott didn't get into trouble about the car. It turns out, the transmission gave out, which can/will happen to any car in time. Especially Scott's since it was so old and without any prior engine troubles. We all hooked up later that night and did something else incredibly stupid, but alas... that's a different story all together.

And what a way for Scott to leave Nova Scotia on! If he hadn't firmly planted tha fact that he's an idiot into our heads, this surely cemented it. For the rest of his life, I am certain Scott Ingraham will have bad luck. It's an unwritten law of nature.

Two days later, Scott left for Calgary, Alberta Canada. Home of the Flames. Home of Bret "The Hitman" Hart and family. Home of the Calgary Stampede. Scott boarded a bus out to Lake Louise (a two hour ride) so he could go to work at his new found job...

UPDATE