Driving Solo

As I drove across the Trans-Canada highway in British Columbia, Canada, I couldn't help but notice all the hand-drawn signs for fresh cherries. Friends of mine would boast about their summers working on a farm picking these ripe red berries and I was developing a fierce craving. I was driving alone in a car I borrowed from a friend of a friend trying to make it to Nelson before sundown, so my desire to pull over was tainted by my rush to get across the province.

I drove a total of seven hours up to that point. The radio was busted, so I resorted to singing a song by Gary Clarke Jr. that reminded me of my boyfriend back at home in Toronto. "I know I didn't call, but I'll be alone, in a little while," I yell-sang at the top of my lungs. It was hot, and the windows were down.

I was in week 5 of my solo travels. I started in San Diego, California and slowly made my way north. I met complete strangers that felt like old friends, but it was finally time for me to see one of my own. My friend Ellyssa lives in Nelson, and it was her friend that was trusting enough to lend me her car. It was that romantic notion of an long, independent drive that made me jump at the idea of visiting my friend I haven't seen in months.

That day started in Whistler. As I drove north past Pemberton, a sign told me that I should gas up, since it would be a while before the next station. I noticed gas prices were pretty high, so I decided my half tank was enough to get me in and out of the mountains. I've never experienced anything like driving through the winding mountain roads. The wildlife was creeping at the edges, and the views from the top were coloured with mountain reflections and blue skies. All the excitement distracted me from the red light of the gas tank, but when I came to notice, I started to get a bit nervous. I tapped on the wheel and ad-libbed songs of my fate if I didn't reach the gas station on time. Finally I got to a little station called Lightfoot Gas near Lillooet, and gave a smile of relief to the man who filled up the car. I bought a freezie, a water, and a postcard with a beaver on it and kept on my way.

That was the last time I stopped before reaching the row of "Fresh picked Cherries" signs. I thought I could just wait a little longer for a meal, but they kept popping up like someone knew I needed a little persuasion. Finally, I decided to pull over. I thought, why the rush? I stepped out, took a deep inhale, and stretched my arms over my head.