Summer’s End

Sun. Road. Porsche.

With winter hibernation, fast approaching, it was time for the last 718 road trip of the summer. With no specific time limits on me, I am free to make my own way, at my own pace, back to home home. French Village, New Brunswick.

This time around, I avoid our turbulent neighbour to the south, and chart a course through Canada exclusively. Never the most exciting drive in terms of G-forces, regardless, with the top down for 90% of the way, the Boxster cabin is a lovely place to spend 1200 km of Canadian countryside. 

Once I clear the foul and increasingly increasing levels of Ottawa traffic, the loop that skirts Montreal to the south is smooth sailing. From there, on the eastern outskirts of the big city, the speed ramps up noticeably as it always does, all the way to Quebec City. It’s something I’ve noticed over the past 30 years driving that particular stretch of road, people drive fast! If they’re anything like me, there’s a palpable sense of when finally away from the congestion, the cars are suddenly freed up and the right foot goes down as a kind of compensation for the constraints they’ve had to endure. I’m not immune to it, and the big 4 litre responds willingly as I tip into the accelerator a little more. People along this stretch also absolutely love to hug the left lane, remaining in it for fear of losing their spot if they dare to pull to the right at any point. Of course, that means all kinds of adventures with people who fly up the right and then do their darndest to cut in, with much honking and braking and general annoyance. For the most part, I stay serene and let the big lump of the Boxster’s motor provide me with the surge I need to close any gaps or take advantage of any lulls in concentration by other motorists. My lane etiquette is decent, but occasionally I use the tools at hand to make my way through efficiently.

One particular black Toyota Tacoma tries to stay glued to my rear bumper for about four straight hours along the route. Problem is, he keeps trying the right-lane-speed-up-and-cut-in technique, but is misjudging things and getting stuck. He reappears a little later, right on my bumper again. I think the Carmine Red paint is a real target for him, or the fact that there’s a little sports car in his way - how dare it be - and I can almost feel him gnashing his teeth as he repeatedly gets stuck behind the line of us passing some slower-moving transports. Nothing he can do but join the queue, and that clearly irritates him hugely. Not being in any particular kind of rush, this doesn’t  bother me, and I find it kind of an entertaining game to wonder at what point I will see him next. He finally peels off around Trois Rivières after giving me some 400 kms of mild entertainment, and that is that, while I continue the drive paralleling the St. Lawrence up to the turn towards the New Brunswick border. This is a particularly pleasant, scenic part of the drive,  and ‘Red’ and I make great time.

Making the turn southwards in NB, heading down the trans-Canada adjacent to the Saint John River, for a moment I pass through a shower and then majestically dead ahead, as if to point out Mum and Dad's place as the pot o' gold at the end of the rainbow, a perfect arch of the full colour spectrum marks the way dead ahead. It puts a grin on my face as the sun shines down once again, I drop the top and tip in to the gas pedal a little firmer (speed limit in NB is 110 km/h on the highway).

 The rest of the trip is just as pleasant as the first two-thirds, perhaps even a little more as there's little traffic on these roads. The sun drops out of sight behind me for the last hour and the snug cabin under the patchy clouds and stars is a perfect place to be at the end of a long drive.

The week to follow will all be about continuing the zen brought on by this serene drive, and then a follow-up return to Ottawa back along the same route.

Fingers crossed for the same experience back! These (long) jaunts back home are worth every kilometre, every fuel stop. Home to the folks, with silent sleep nights and brisk walks with Molly and Mum, cups of tea and chats, seeing Dad's boat take shape...it's stress-free, soul-nourishing, and the perfect tonic to lead into the dark depths of GTS-less winter!

~ Luke