The Stolen Steering Wheel
My wife, Jean, had relatives in Canada – an aunty Gladys and uncle Walter, who had emigrated when she was very young and two married cousins -see ‘The Three Musketeers’.
She kept in touch with a regular exchange of letters and later by telephone and from her late teens, visited them most years – eventually, along with me as part of the family.
The Cottage
One cousin had a cottage on the beach at Lake Huron – the original cottage, built in the early 1900s, was quaint but small with an outside loo. It was replaced, as that cousin prospered – in fact they both did in a country with, generally, a better standard of living than most parts of the UK.
It was replaced by a wood built, three story, five bedrooms, four bathrooms and a bowling alley in the basement – which they continued to call ‘the cottage’.
On his and his wife’s retirement, they left the city and moved permanently to the lake and its white sands, warm water (well, in the summer – frozen in the winter), tennis courts and a golf course just a walk away – as was a baseball diamond – all built by and available to the local, close knit community – with a lovely small town with every amenity, just five minutes’ drive away, with a cowboy style sports bar and a floor covered in peanut shells – I loved it.
During Jean and I’s self-employment we would often go over twice a year.
Sunday Softball
My abiding memory is – Sunday mornings at the baseball diamond – all the local boys – from 16 to 70+ gathered – lined up and numbered off to get two teams – odds and evens, for, a quite competitive, game of Softball (underarm pitching and no sliding into the bases).
Having played a lot of cricket, in the amateur leagues, I did OK – got runs. pitched regularly and even went as catcher (equivalent of a wicketkeeper) a few times and took quite a few catches (though a big glove on my left hand, didn’t help) Happy days.
Steering Wheel?
You may, by now, be wondering what the ‘steering wheel ‘in the title of this post is all about – I’m sorry, just got distracted with memories.
One early visit, staying with Gladys and Walter in a large town in Ontario, called Stratford.
Name places
The early Canadian settlers lacked imagination – you see British name places everywhere – the cousin in the cottage, used to live in London, his wife came from a family hotel and restaurant business in Tobermory , the other cousin still lives in New Dundee – where Glad and Wal lived was actually Stratford on Avon – had the river and a Shakespeare Memorial Theatre and a festival every year.
Shopping in Stratford on Avon
One day I wanted to do some shopping in town and borrowed Walter’s car for the ten-minute drive.
Into town, quite quiet, and I get parked in the main square.
Shopping successfully done and back to the car. Jumped in and reached for the steering wheel – and it wasn’t there! Someone must have broken in and stolen it!
Looked around to see if there was any damage – and realise – they hadn’t stolen the wheel – they had just moved it to the other side of the car!
You have probably guessed by now – unless you don’t drive – I had got in, on the wrong side of the car, which in Canada are, of course, all left-hand drive.
It gets sillier – just in case anyone was watching – I reached forward to the glove compartment in front of me and made a play of searching for something for a while. Then I got back out and walked round to the right side – that is, the left side – and got back in and drove off.
That evening we had one of the cousins, Phil, and his wife Chris and their two sons, over for dinner and I told the lads the story – focusing on the break in and the missing steering wheel – I may have embellished it a bit.
They were only in their early teens and not driving yet and believed every word – open mouthed. Until their dad explaine
Sunday Brunch
A couple of days later – we met them again. Chris was having a family get together for a Sunday brunch at a log cabin restaurant in the woods.
I drove there along with Jean, Wal and Glad and had a great time – Chris’s family very welcoming and a fantastic help yourself buffet – though I never quite got the bacon with maple syrup and waffles.
Back to the car for the return – I am about to get in when
I hear a shout – one of Chris’s brothers – calls out as they are passing – ‘Make sure you get in the right side of the car, Jim’ to laughter all round. Word had obviously got around.
I did respond – ‘Are there no bloody secrets round here.’ To just get more laughter.
– nice people.