Canada Day 2026

This is one July 1st that a lot of Ottawa residents will remember for a long, long time, and not for the reasons anyone would have hoped.

An unprecedented 1-in-200-year storm battered Ottawa on Canada Day 2026, dropping up to 167 mm of rain in some areas. The historic deluge flooded thousands of homes, triggered widespread power outages, and forced the city to cancel all official Canada Day festivities. The worst of the damage was concentrated in Ottawa’s west end, right where I live, and right where I had just taken possession of my new home.

Oh crap.

Environment Canada recorded 118.4 mm of rain at the Ottawa airport, shattering the previous single-day July record of 58.9 mm set back in 1959. The sheer volume of water overwhelmed the storm sewer system, sending water back into thousands of basements. At the same time, the two creeks that wind through my new neighbourhood overflowed their banks, adding overland flooding to an already impossible situation.

At the beginning of the storm, the power went out. Then the water started to rise. In just five hours, Ottawa received roughly twice the rainfall the stormwater system was designed to handle. More than 5,800 flooded basements have since been reported.

Five hours.

In many ways, I was fortunate. My current home wasn’t flooded, and I hadn’t yet moved into the new one. Unlike many of my friends and neighbours, I didn’t lose family photographs, heirlooms, furniture, or years of memories. My losses were largely mechanical: soaked drywall and insulation, floating carpet, a ruined furnace, and countless hours of cleanup.

That’s frustrating. But it’s replaceable.

Watching friends sort through waterlogged photo albums, children’s keepsakes, and possessions that simply can’t be bought again puts things into perspective very quickly.

I also know people who lost their cars. One friend’s vehicle was trapped in an underground garage as floodwater poured in. It was a total loss.

That could easily have been Red.

As the storm intensified with torrential rain and hail, I found myself taking shelter in a nearby mall parking garage. During a brief lull, I managed to get Red safely home before heading back out to help friends whose homes were already beginning to flood.

That was the last time I thought about the car that day.

The bike ride over? Let’s just say I have never been so thoroughly soaked. By the time I arrived, the water was already coming in, and the evening quickly became less about the storm itself and more about helping wherever I could.

More than two weeks later, many of us are still living with the aftermath. Cleanup. Decontamination. Demolition. Insurance claims. City regulations. Dump runs. Rebuilding. And, for many families, the heartbreaking task of deciding what precious mementos can be saved, and what has to be thrown away.

Thankfully, no one close to me was seriously injured. In the grand scheme of things, that’s what matters. As car enthusiasts, it’s easy to become emotionally invested in our machines. We spend countless hours maintaining them, modifying them, protecting them, and worrying about every little scratch or stone chip. I certainly do. My Boxster means a great deal to me. But this storm was a powerful reminder that, at the end of the day, it is still just a car.

The real value isn’t sitting in the garage. It’s the people we care about, the memories we make with them, and the opportunities we have to help one another when life suddenly turns upside down. Ironically, perhaps appreciating a special car means remembering that perspective. We don’t preserve them because they are the most important things in our lives. We preserve them because they help us enjoy the life we’re fortunate enough to have.

For me there was another lesson hidden in all of this. In the middle of the chaos - the emergency cleanup, the insurance calls, the endless trips to the dump, and the constant feeling that there was always one more thing demanding attention - it seemed obvious to me how important it is to hold on to a little bit of normal life. Once the initial emergency has passed, do something ‘normal’. Go out for dinner with friends. Stick to one of your regular routines if you can. Take a walk. Watch a movie. And yes, if the roads are dry and your car is safe, take Red out for a drive.

Those moments aren’t an escape from reality. They’re what help us cope with it. They remind us that while disasters may temporarily consume our lives, they don’t have to define them. Life isn’t put on hold until everything is repaired. In fact, maintaining some sense of normalcy is often what gives us the strength to face the next day of rebuilding.

If this flood has reinforced anything for me, it’s that perspective matters. Treasure the people around you. Be grateful for what survived. Enjoy the things that bring you happiness without losing sight of what is truly important.

Homes can be rebuilt. Cars can be repaired or replaced. But the moments we spend with family, friends, and the people who help us through life’s storms are the things that endure long after the floodwaters have receded.

Sometimes it takes five hours of relentless rain to put everything back into perspective.

Now it’s time to go for a little drive.

~ Luke