Saint Johns, New Brunswick
September 13, 2005
Refined Oil, Reversing Falls, & Relinquishing to TIM HORTON

My childhood was spent in an area south of Chicago on the shores of Lake Michigan, encompassing Gary, Hammond, and Whiting, Indiana, home to Sinclair, Standard Oil, Conoco. Today on the scenic drive from Sussex, NB, through St. Martins, NB, toward Saint Johns we came across the largest oil refinery I had ever seen...Irving of Canada on the Bay of Fundy. Privately owned, three Irving brothers refine 80% of Canada's oil. They are not eligible for public assistance. They charge more at the pump here than they do in neighboring provinces (the gas is fresher).



In forward or reverse,
two of my favorites:
L-R
Carol Wallen & Dot Kalet






St. Johns is otherwise quite dull...a decent farmer's market, several squares named after kings or queens, and the famed reversing falls. The water flows backward during high tide....yawn.



On this trip we have been exposed to many of the following:
The largest....
The first.....
The oldest.....
The only.....




Lizzie Borden, are you listening ?
The World's Largest Axe, 66 feet high,
in Nackiwac, NB. Which anagrams to:
CAN-WACKI !









All you have to do is fill in the blanks;
Lobster, Stainless Steel Axe, Maritime library outside the British Isles, License plate to commemorate Veterans, Highest Tide, Longest bridge, yada, yada.





A highlight of the day was visiting the paint-by-number museum of Storme Arden and Dorain Henderson, which you can visit at their website,
<>. Lynn and I have had a cheap metal magazine rack in our trailer for the last seven years (maybe a $1 garage sale purchase) that was sold as a paint-by-number keepsake in the 50s. Lynn thought it was dreadfully tacky, and I, by contrast, felt it was an astonishing example of truly collectable retro-chic priceless art. Guess who was right ?





The paint-by-number gallery;
Worth a special trip....
awe inspiring.











The curators,
L-R,
Dorain Henderson & Storme Arden,
in lovely St. Martins, NB
















Both women were in awe, so I elected to donate it to their museum where it will remain on exhibit in perpetuity, or until they sell it on e-bay, whichever comes first.





This was also our last day in Canada, home of the Canadian Embassy, or as it is known here, TIM HORTON'S. I had quietly and reluctantly sidestepped entering a Tim Horton's until this final day. We were accompanied by Canadian friends, Roy and Bonnie MacDonald (note the irony), as I lost my TH virginity.
It was o.k., fast food, fresh, high in calories and sodium ion, and modestly priced, but I doubt that I'll ever return.





In Tim Hortons men's restroom,
this awesome yawning "SCHMOO"
cycloptic urinal.













The cupcake drags Chas. into
the TH while amused Irving employees
belch with excitement





In the beginning I indicated that the caravan invaded Canada in a staggered start, 3 sections of 35 units in intervals of 3 days. We are now staggering toward the finish. Our rigs are filthy, systems internal and external have failed including but not limited to:
cabinets falling off walls, drawers coming apart, microwave exploding, electric jack melting, toilet seals deteriorate, cabin bodies loosening from frames, broken axles, flat tires, fan belts shred, refrigerator failure. We are like a deuce in the discard pile.


Frank Guros watches as
John Dona changes his tire.
"It was only flat on the bottom"












An overhead advert on the tour
bus in St. Johns, which somehow
seemed aimed at our target audience.



















The days dwindle down to a precious few as we at last entered northern Maine, after 57 days out of the U.S., autumn now erupting in its annual gestation, that quiet exhilaration of brown, yellow, and amber madness. It seemed appropriate to listen to Greenwood's, "Proud to be an American", and Springsteen's, "Born in the U.S.A.", as we crossed the border. Even in a country that is being hopelessly mismanaged, we remain steadfastly loyal, it's good to be home.