Tag: hockey

My Journey Through Various Cars: A Personal Reflection

June 21, 2025

A blogger’s description of his experiences with cars over the years sparked memories of myown time with the vehicles I’ve driven.

Like many others, I wanted to have a car when I was a student in Vancouver, British Columbia. With limited funds, I searched for something within my budget. I had my heart set on the curvy Mustang, which I found appealing in design. However, when I started looking, the used models began at $2,000, far beyond what I could afford.

On another used car lot, I came across a Peugeot 403 priced at $800. This was more manageable for me, and the car was in good condition with no rust. For me, the Peugeot had some interesting features, including a hand crank to assist with starting the engine in colder weather. You had to be careful with the crank; if you didn’t let go as soon as the car started, it could potentially injure you by taking your arm out of its shoulder socket.

The Peugeot 403 received excellent service from European mechanics in Vancouver, and parts were easily accessible. When properly tuned, the car purred like a sewing machine. The situation changed, though, when I drove my Peugeot to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where I entered graduate school. My route took me south to California, where I joined Route 66 and journeyed east across the Mojave Desert to North Carolina. The car performed well in temperatures above 120 degrees.

During my stay in North Carolina, snow arrived only once, and I was able to use the crank successfully. However, problems arose when I needed repairs. The mechanics seemed puzzled when they saw my Peugeot; they had never encountered this model before. More importantly, they didn’t have any parts, and the parts that I needed were in the metric system, not the imperial system. This meant that no North American part would fit. Fortunately, the mechanics were resourceful and managed to install General Motors parts that worked in some fashion, but only for a short time. The car sputtered, but it continued to run until it eventually broke down on a rural highway. I removed the license plates, left the vehicle on the shoulder, and hitchhiked back into town.

With my first professional job and a better salary in Norfolk, Virginia, I sought a stylish car. A yellow hardtop Dodge Coronet 440 caught my eye, equipped with a powerful V8 engine that rumbled in a confident roar. The black leather hardtop contrasted sharply with the yellow body, making it look sharp!

The car performed beautifully and even had air conditioning, which was a big deal since I didn’t have AC at my graduate dorm in Chapel Hill. We also lacked air conditioning at our rental unit in Norfolk, where temperatures often soared into the 100s.

I will never forget the rental furniture in Norfolk; the bed was made of Styrofoam! It was uncomfortably hot at night without air conditioning. The only relief we had during that time was from large fans and open windows, but we could always take a drive in the car with its AC system to escape the heat.

We later moved to Washington, DC, and then to Ottawa in this car. It was a reliable vehicle that took our family, which included three children under ten at the time, and our dog on several trips to Florida. With a two-door sedan, we had to push the children and the dog into the back seat before we could get going. We enjoyed car camping and visited various sights along Highway 95 as we headed south. One of our favorite stops was the Battleship North Carolina in Wilmington, NC.

At this point, we needed a second car to transport the children to their separate sports events. I purchased a used VW Squareback, which was economical, and I found the standard gear shift to be fun to use. However, the gas heater proved to be a challenge! Imagine driving the VW in minus twenty-degree temperatures during winter. The gas heater took time to start working. While waiting for it to warm up, I had to open the windows to prevent them from fogging up with my breath in the car. To cope with the biting cold wind coming through the windows, I wore a heavy parka, a tuque, and gloves. Unfortunately, the Squareback was not built for the freezing winters of Ottawa.

The car was lightweight, and even with snow tires, I slid into an intersection where oncoming vehicles collided with me one day. That was the end of the VW. The worst part was that my neighbors witnessed the wreck with me init, and the gossip in my neighborhood was about how incompetent I was at driving on ice.

A similar situation ensued with my fancy Dodge SE, a V8 that boasted ample power and a fabulous interior. This car had been given to me by my father when he retired, and I had it transported by train from Vancouver to Ottawa. It was a gem, but in humid weather, it was challenging to start. I am not sure why. I kept a screwdriver with a long stem in the glove compartment to help me short-circuit the starter engine in humid weather. Unfortunately, sliding on ice on a curvy road led me to crash into a tree, ending the life of this remarkable car.

After joining an international telecom company in the high-tech sector and becoming an executive, I rewarded myself with a Toyota Camry, which I dubbed the “silver bullet” because of its shiny silver color. It was a trouble-free car, and I drove it for an impressive 300,000 miles.

In a memorable event, I hit black ice on a rural road one night and flipped the car, leaving me hanging upside down by the seatbelt. Once I got my brain into gear, I opened the window and shut down the engine that was still running. Then I tried to figure out how to extricate myself from being upside down without banging my head when I unhook the seatbelt. Once I turned myself right up, I climbed outside through the window and flagged down a motorist. The insurance company paid for the rehabilitation of the car.

Before our next driving vacation, I had the vehicle inspected by service professionals to ensure it was still in excellent condition. They called me back in half an hour to inform me that the engine was about to fall out of the chassis at the next pothole due to the rusty frame.

We traded our Camry, with its limited value, for a Mercury Cougar station wagon to accommodate our hockey gear. The large hockey bags require plenty of space. I was impressed by the salesman’s story that the previous owner was the football coach of the Ottawa Roughriders. Despite the incessant rattle of loose parts, the car served us well.

When the Cougar became a rattletrap, we moved on to a Chevrolet Caprice Estate, another spacious station wagon. My most vivid memories with this car were transporting the boys to soccer tournaments from Montreal to Toronto, Syracuse, and various locations in between.

One trip left a lasting impression. The boys played cards in the back, sitting in a circle, when suddenly, the card game devolved into a farting contest. I had to open all the windows to let the foul smell escape, and when the boys continued to pass gas, I stopped the car and told them to control themselves or risk missing a game. That worked!

When we became empty-nesters, we decided to upgrade to a leased Honda CR-V. Now, we are on our third CR-V. The leasing arrangement allows us to get a new model every three to four years. Our current vehicle is a hybrid, and while the fuel efficiency is excellent, I was shocked to find out that it doesn’t come with a spare tire—the battery occupies that space. Fortunately, we’ve experienced very few flat tires on the road, so the absence of a spare may not be a significant issue. Keep your fingers crossed!

Overall, the quality of cars has improved considerably over time. At the same time, the number of gadgets and the use of chips in vehicles have increased substantially. I used to enjoy working on cars in the past, tinkering with things like changing spark plugs, but that has become too complex for me now. Thankfully, the newer cars tend to be more reliable.

What is Canadian Culture

February 7, 2024

During a lively discussion with friends, I asked: what is Canadian culture? After a surprising period of thoughtful quiet, someone suggested that Canada has musicians, authors, and artists who combine to define Canadian culture. But I said that many of these have made their career in the US. For example, Celine Dion, Joni Mitchell, and The Guess Who (Burton Cummings) have become famous south of the border. When it comes to writers, Rohinton Mistry, although a Canadian author, wrote about India, Michael Ondaatje, another Canadian author, wrote about World War II (The English Patient), and Margaret Atwood’s novels have also enjoyed wide popularity south of the border. So, why would we call them examples of Canadian culture? What is Canadian about their work, except for their citizenship?

I brought up our difficulty when visiting friends and family in Europe; what should we take as gifts that would appear Canadian? We have often taken coasters and shawls with native Canadian themes but not much else. We could not think of other items. Canadian native themes represent a small portion of the Canadian art fabric, although considered very Canadian abroad.

When I think of Canadian culture, the McKenzie Brothers come to mind; Bob and Doug, acting as two dimwitted brothers, swilled beer, and every second word coming out of their mouths was “have another beer” and “eh,” on their popular show called The Great White North. There is something about drinking beer that is Canadian, whether in a ballpark or at hockey arenas during games. Bob and Doug have certainly become Canadian favorites, and I would label their popularity as part of Canadian culture.

Another part of Canadian culture is hockey. It is widely popular, and most children start playing when they are big enough to lace up a pair of skates. One of the most popular hockey commentators on “Hockey Night Canada” was Don Cherry, whose flamboyant suits and analyses of hockey games charmed many Canadian homes.  

Rick Mercer is a Canadian icon whose show was on air for over twenty years. His humor and rants pleased Canadians. His travels in the US interviewing famous people and asking dumb questions to embarrass interviewees were enormously popular in Canada (including one with then-presidential candidate Bush – Rick asked Bush about Canadian Prime Minister “Jean Poutine”). I appreciated his humor but did not like the idea of embarrassing people. But apparently, his wit pleased Canadians, which tells me something about Canadian character.

Founded by the ex-hockey player Tim Horton, the coffee shop chain of his name has become a Canadian institution. Although many Starbucks, Second Cups, and other coffee shops exist, Canadians gravitate to a local Tim Horton for their morning fix. I would call the chain part of our Canadian culture today.

We also enjoy the unique throat singing by Inuit people. In Canada, you hear throat singing on national holidays. I would call it a part of the Canadian cultural mosaic.

So, you may ask: what is culture? I am not an expert on this subject, but to me, it is a pattern of behavior of people living on a usually contiguous piece of geography with common traditions acquired over generations vis-a-vis work, diet, clothing, social interaction, language, religion, likes, and dislikes. For example, think of the French culture of Quebec, their joie-de-vivre, their history with les habitants (the original settlers from France in what is now Quebec), their love of hockey, and their language. And do not forget their food: poutine, tourtiere, feve au lards.

What spawned the discussion on Canadian culture was whether we are losing it. Whether the influx of immigrants, refugees, and the vast numbers of foreign students dilute Canadian culture, and whether the Prime Minister, advocating the concept of the “trans-national state,” supersedes traditional Canadian culture.

While the US embraced the “melting pot” concept for their newcomers, Canada favored “multi-culturalism.” We love the different cultures immigrants bring with them, their ethnic restaurants, and their ethnic community centers, and we support them financially to celebrate their national holidays. We encourage foreign cultures to thrive in Canada; we celebrate them on July 1 each year, Canada’s birthday. The more we do this, the more we dilute Canadian culture with foreign cultures. We forget who we are and what we stand for, except for Canadian society’s equity, diversity, and inclusion slogan.

Let me describe a day when I met three newcomers to Canada that made me think about their knowledge of Canada. A cheerful young fellow took my passport pictures at a pharmacy. Arriving six months ago from Sri Lanka, he has not secured a job in his field, civil engineering. Nobody in his home country told him during his application process he might need to requalify in Canada to work as an engineer. And so, he worked as a cashier and passport photographer at the pharmacy. Hoping for a better future, he has already rented an apartment to welcome his wife and two-year-old child in two months.

The fellow sitting beside me waiting to get his social insurance card at a Canadian service center (I  was there to renew my passport) came from Zimbabwe two months ago. As a pharmacist, he already has a job and awaits his family’s arrival in a few months. He told me he learned how to dress for the cold in Canada in January. He informed me he would stay for twenty years and then return home. He may change his mind in the next twenty years, and I am sure he will learn a lot about Canada that may attract him to stay.

The agent who did the paperwork to renew my passport was born in France to African parents. Bilingual and with a federal government job, he may be Canadianized to a degree, but I wondered how he feels as a black bilingual person in English-speaking Ontario.

These are just three examples of Canadian newcomers I met one day, and I wondered what they knew about Canadian culture. They will undoubtedly learn. Two have experienced the cold Canadian winter for the first time, which involves tuques, mukluks, down-filled gloves, and parkas. Years ago, I worked at the federal immigration department when a program existed with funding to assist immigrants in adjusting to Canadian life. The program does not exist anymore.

Personally, camping in the wilderness, canoeing, and picking wild blueberries on land recently devastated by forest fire, with bears around, is part of Canada. Cottaging around the lakes in Ontario, listening to the buzz of the chainsaw and the hammer sound, is also typical of Canadian culture. Unless we provide time and opportunity for our newcomers to learn to live in our country and engage in activities that have become traditions in Canada, I am afraid that we’ll gradually lose parts of our cultural identity.

Forty-six percent of Toronto is foreign-born. And twenty-three percent of Canada is foreign-born. How can we not lose part of who we are with these numbers? But immigrants are welcome in Canada; immigrants built this country. It could be that our success with immigrants will cause our changing culture.