Sunday Drivin'

We veer left off the number 10 highway somewhere west of Balcarres; we head south. The paved road did not take long to transform into a dirty, dusty back road. An upcoming junction in the dust indicates a decision had to be made, and it was. Had we not gone east we would have drove to the Motherwell Heritage site: a stone house and farming property that has become an important piece of the Canadian historical puzzle for reasons beyond my understanding and knowledge, despite having gone there on a field trip in Mrs. Edwards’ grade four class over a decade ago. But there was no time for Motherwell, not today – that’s for sure. After one more turn, we head south once again.

Dusk grasps onto the hills of the surrounding valleys for as long as its grip could hold – 20 minutes, maybe. We pick up speed and kick up dirt seeming reluctantly certain that we are going the right direction. Guided by our faith and a dirt road, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires of the red 2008 Impala slows as the trail dives and twists downwards. I slip ‘er into third . . . “Whoops! That’s neutral . . . There we go.” I slip ‘er into third.

Anybody who says South Saskatchewan has got nothing to see hasn’t driven through the grid road valleys on the cusp of clear and colourful sunset. Orange, amber and if your lucky, even purple; colours so brilliant that the greatest poet would not dare to rhyme them. The scenery is vivid; I continually remind myself to keep my eyes on the road. We carry on through the dips and dust, trusting whatever direction the road steers us.

Finally, the dirt trail straightens for the time being. Confident and calm from the soothing sunset’s subtle withdrawal only minutes ago, our speed increases. On either side of the road we can see hidden farm houses through the tall trunks of their matured shelterbelts.

“WHOA!” Out of the trees dashes a big brown animal! I jerk the steering wheel left but fear it’s too late. We’re going to smash into it. Will we be okay? Will the car be okay? I accept that I am about to kill some kind of wild beast with big shoulders. There is going to be damage to the car. These thoughts and more circulate through my brain within the fraction of a second it took for this drama to unfold. It's a dog; a Rottweiler. We pass by without hitting it, but the swerve at high speeds on loose gravel and the shock induced screams from the two of us were humbling to say the least. The fear and panic of this heart-stopping moment spawns laughter. The near death experience suddenly becomes uncontrollably hysterical. Our laughter intensifies.

This triggers a flashback for Jody, my beautiful wife, passenger and part time navigator to my right. Suddenly she remembers that road. She remembers that farm house, she even remembers that dog. For her it’s like déjà vu. Apparently, the dog is so familiar with his driveway that he can run full speed towards the road and stop on a dime without actually being in the way of traffic. I am telling you, it was inches from the car before it stopped.

Even more determined than before to find our way, we continue driving; still occasionally chuckling. It is dark now and I can see us approaching another valley. The entrance to this valley is not very steep, causing us to slowly engulf ourselves in its depth and darkness. The lower we get the darker the night grows. We see one car in the distance travelling on another road, perhaps on a Sunday drive of their own; it is refreshing to see that sign of life.

The curvaceous dusty trail leads us across a bridge, then across another. Jody begins reminiscing again about how she used to close her eyes because of the steep incline that we are approaching. It was very steep; I could see why it would frighten a weary young girl. She points left and remarks that the road used to be over there when she was a kid; now wild prairie foliage grows in its place. We climb the new road and out of the dark valley without looking back, knowing for certain that we are being led in the right direction, truly confident and moving forward.

It’s after 10 pm. Lights from the Trans Canada Highway can be seen as the empowering horizon quickly draws nearer. “It’s good to know these back roads”, says Jody referring once more to a childhood memory. We had survived our Sunday evening adventure. Unpredictable, unforgettable, beautiful, treacherous and even hilarious: this is our journey. It may be the road less travelled but I would not want it any other way.