Holidays, that’s all I could think of. My elderly neighbor Ciss, was a feisty 85 year old Irishwoman. She invited me to accompany her to Clearwater, Florida where she had bought a trailer and she wanted to drive down sometime in September for a visit. I accepted her invitation and we settled on a date. I agreed that I would do the driving. Ciss owned an old Nash Rambler. Her late husband had been an auto car mechanic and had made modifications to it. It was in first class shape but it was a heavy model built like a tank.

As I had only earned my Driver’s License the month before I was not too eager to test the old antique.

Finally the day of departure arrived. I hurried home to pack my swim suit along with a few other articles in the duffel bag reserved for such occasions.

Ciss and I lived side by side in a semidetached house in Toronto and had become close friends. I was pleased when she told me that she had been to Florida and bought a trailer. She was very excited. This was a first for her. Her husband, Tommy had been the breadwinner making any and all important decisions such as this. Unfortunately Tommy had passed away and she found she didn’t have a clue regarding business transactions including writing a simple cheque.

I was packed and ready on the Friday afternoon; waiting for Ciss to let me know when she was ready for me. Finally I walked over to find out what the delay was all about, and as I approached the car parked in her driveway I could see that it was loaded and sat very low, so low I thought perhaps the tires had blown. Then I peered through the windows and saw that it was piled high with all sorts of items. I was a little alarmed as it appeared there was no room for our baggage.

I called Ciss and asked her to explain what this was all about. She in turn told me all about her good friend Peggy who also owned a trailer in Florida. She had asked her as a favor to transport all the articles in the back seat.

“Well then,” I asked, “what about the trunk?” Ciss looked at me ruefully and again, pointing to a very packed and full trunk explained that Peggy, her friend had asked as a favor to cart her “family silver” with us in order to meet with her son, coming to Florida from England, who in turn would be taking the suitcase full of heavy silver consisting of a full set of silverware, tray, teapot, coffee pot, urn, etc. etc., to England when he returned there.

Needless to say I became very upset as well as angry and told her to drive the car to Florida herself as I had just gone through the Driver’s Examination and only that week had received my Driver’s License. I stormed into my house, slammed the door and sat down in a quivering rage. Ciss, in turn responded that she would drive herself and got into the car. I heard her start the car and ignored whatever she was doing, determined to forget the whole trip.

Ten minutes later there was a knock at my door. I opened the door to a tearful Ciss who looked at me shamefacedly and asked me to please change my mind. I was greatly alarmed as I was an inexperienced driver and I felt she was taking advantage of me. I decided to discuss the matter with her before agreeing to anything. It was with great trepidation I finally agreed to drive the Nash Rambler antique;, but only if several conditions were met.

We would only drive to Windsor as I was very tired by this time, and we would rent the first motel we came to. It was getting late and it had begun to rain. However we managed to cram our things on top of the heap of articles in the back seat and set off to Florida.

As we drove onto the Don Valley Parkway leading to the U.S. I-75 highway south I felt I was steering a tank. But, I had to admit it was certainly stable and after merging with the traffic I began to feel more confident although the car was about 6 inches off the road. I gripped the wheel firmly and off we went. Florida bound!

As we were belting along I asked Ciss about “the silverware in the trunk, did Peggy give you anything to indicate that you had some sort of proof that this was truly hers to dispose of, that it was not stolen or otherwise come by?” “No,” replied Ciss. “Well,” I said, “what if the customs officers demand some proof of ownership? That we two old ladies weren’t running some sort of scam? After all that’s a lot of valuable silverware back there,!” I exclaimed. “Oh dear, oh dear” quivered Ciss.

We drove for three or four hours until finally reaching the outskirts of Windsor, not far from the Peace Bridge we spotted a “Motel – Vacancy” sign. We pulled into the motel entrance and marched into the Office. The lady at the counter squinted at us, passing me a key as I gave her $20.00 for the cabin. We drove over to see what was little more than a shack with a couple of windows. However we were both tired and I in particular, needed some rest desperately.

We just barely got in the door with Ciss headed for the tiny wee washroom. Suddenly Ciss screamed. “There’s a cockroach in there,” she yelled as she pointed to the offending bug. Sure enough there in the corner sat the insect waving its feelers innocently. “Never mind Ciss,” I comforted, “we won’t be long, just let me nap for fifteen minutes or so and I’ll be fine.” With those remarks I lay down on bed and was just dozing off.

Vroom, Vrroooom, Vrrrroooomm!!, rumbled a large transport truck! Waiting to hear it drive off I rolled over and pulled the pillow over my head. Vrroom! Vrrroooomm! Vrrroommm!! Roared another transport truck! I leapt off the bed and looked out the window. Our chosen motel was situated at the main intersection of the Peace Bridge. Every vehicle in the country, to and from, crossing the border between the U.S. and Canada had to stop right there, changing grinding gears, about 300 feet from the little cabin, as they crossed over the bridge.

“Well that was a waste of time and money”, I grumbled. “C’mon Ciss, let’s get out of this flea trap.” We quickly grabbed the few articles, glad that we hadn’t unpacked and left that prize location. We just wanted to get out of there and hadn’t washed or tidied up at all. By this time it was dawn as we drove to the Customs Booth. I was a little concerned and worried as we pulled up. The Customs Officer leaned out of the window of the booth and seemed to be amused as he had a little smile on his face. “Where are you headed for?” he asked. “Clearwater, Florida” we chorused. “Are you Canadian Citizens?” “Yes,” we replied. “How long?” he asked again. “Three weeks.” We answered. “Okay, g’wan, get outta here!” he said.

We looked at each other only too happy to oblige! We trundled over to the parking area where I put the car in park. Then I glanced up to look in the mirror and was horrified. Gazing back at me was a dirty face, hair standing up haphazardly and generally disheveled, untidy, downright seedy looking. I looked over at Ciss and began to laugh as I realized why the officer was amused. Ciss too had a dirty face and mussed up hair. Her cardigan was buttoned askew and we both began to laugh. However we were happy to get through customs so easily and I drove off. I didn’t think to look for signs or directions as to where we were going. We were on our way. Well, of course Murphy “s Law was the order of the day throughout this trip.

I kept driving until I realized that we passed the same section of houses for the third time. I looked at Ciss and explained that we were lost. However, I spied a gentleman on the sidewalk and pulled over to ask directions to get back onto the highway. With a gentle look of surprise he pointed us in the right direction and off we went. This time I took the trouble to read the signs a little more closely. As we zipped along I was relieved to see a sign pointing to I-75 South.

Soon we were traveling along with a whole convoy of other cars all going in the same direction; eventually we caught up with a long line of cars that seemed to be getting slower and slower. It appeared that we were blocked by a group of five freight trucks who were playing some sort of game switching back and forth; effectively preventing the cars behind from passing. A great long backlog had built up accordingly.

I, the novice driver had learned a few tips from my late husband who had been a superb driver. I forced my way back and forth until finally I was behind the first of the offending trucks. I drove to the extreme left edge of the highway and turned on my high beams, and began to blast my horn; tailgating until the truck in front of me finally moved to the right. I promptly pulled up to the rear of the next truck. Again, I drove the car on the extreme edge of the left pavement, turned on my high beams and sat on my horn. It had its desired effect and the next truck moved over to the right lane. Once more I repeated my strategy and once more the truck ahead moved over. The backlog of cars followed hot on my tail and began edging around the convoy of trucks leaving them far behind.

Rather pleased with myself I explained to Ciss that soon we should book into a motel where I planned to have a glass of wine with dinner, a hot bath and bed. As we tootled along I realized that I needed to make a restroom stop. No sooner the thought than I saw a sign, “Rest Stop” and I promptly pulled in. The turnoff led down into a tiny valley and we both hopped out to use the facilities. As we came out of the restrooms we both heard the rumble of heavy duty motors nd turned to see the five freight trucks coming downhill whereupon Ciss and I hurried to the car and beat the heck out of there. As the truck drivers spotted us they began honking their horns, waving their fists and hollering unprintable cuss words. Oh, well, such is life!

Back on the highway we began to keep an eye out for a motel.

The farther south we got the warmer the weather and it was lovely. “Boy, oh boy!” I exclaimed, “I”m going to have a drink with dinner, Ciss!” That sounds like a good idea responded Ciss. We spotted a motel with quite a number of cars already pulled in for the evening and decided we would do the same. We found the office, reserved a room and got the keys. We headed for the restaurant. I smiled up at the waitress and asked “could I please have a glass of wine with my dinner, thank you!” “Oh, I am so sorry Ma’am!” she replied, “but we don’t serve liquor on Sundays.” “Oh boy, there goes our celebration” I muttered. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

We had a good night’s sleep. Early in the morning we set out right after breakfast. Having learned from experience as 4 o’clock drew near we began to look out for a motel once again. “There’s one coming up Ciss” I sang out cheerfully, “it’s time to pull in.”

Once again we pulled in to a Motel Office and booked a room. We went to the restaurant for our meal; sitting down we scanned the menu, and when the waitress appeared I asked, “Could I have a glass of wine with my dinner, please!” The waitress gave me a glaring look and announced, “Ma’am this is a dry state and we do not serve liquor!” Oh dear, I’m never going to get my glass of wine! I thought to myself. Well, never mind tomorrow we will be in Clearwater and have made it safely so far. Let’s thank our lucky stars go get some sleep, morning comes early.

Sure enough, the weather became even warmer so we stopped at a Rest Stop where I changed into a cooler outfit of brief shorts and top. Well, I still had nice legs anyway and soon as we get there I’ll go for a swim I thought to myself.

We finally arrived at the location in Clearwater where Ciss had her trailer. We unpacked some of the contents into the trailer. At Ciss’ request we hopped back into the car and picked up Peggy; we proceeded to the local bank. We no sooner got into the traffic than we heard a police siren! “Oh, dear!” muttered Ciss from the back seat. Peggy leaned over and said “I think that means us, so you better pull over.” I pulled over rather puzzled as I wasn’t aware of having done anything wrong. However, I saw the police car behind us and dutifully stopped.

“Where y’all from?” asked the officer having strolled up to the car. “Toronto, Canada”, I replied. “Got your owner’s license?” he asked. I explained that Ciss in the back seat owned the car and she would show it to him. He then asked for my driver’s license which I showed him. In the meantime the heat was rising from the sidewalk in waves, and the poor man was melting with sweat pouring all over his face.

“Ciss, where’s the license?” I asked. Poor Ciss was trembling and quivering with fear. “Calm down Ciss,” I soothed, “where’s the license?” “Oh Eva,” she replied “I left it in the trailer in case I lost it.”

“Oh, wow, never mind,” I said getting out of the car, “the officers gone back to his car and I’ll go tell him.” With that I got out and in my best Marilyn Monroe sashay I moseyed my way to the police car and leaned down to the window in my short shorts and brief top explaining our predicament to the poor sweltering officer

“Okay, okay, he sputtered at me, “since you just got here I’ll let you go this time, just don’t do it again!” “Oh, good,” I replied still not knowing what I had done wrong. I got back in our car and Peggy said “that could have been a $100.00 fine, you were very lucky!” At which remark I just chuckled!

Fortunately we had a perfect three weeks of perfect weather and bless Florida to this day!