 |
| Our time on The Rock is setting. |
Our bumper is furry.
We have begun our return home by slaloming between potholes: a roadtrip version of whack-a-mole. Or at least whack-a-mile.
A cinematic beauty continues to play across the windscreen: a Lite Brite of yellow and orange wildflowers breaking up various shades of green along the highway.
Leaning over the gas pump in Gander, I chat with a man who played hockey for the London Knights in the 1960s. Even in Newfoundland, London is a small town.
But he wouldn't recognize the city, or the team, now.
No comments:
Post a Comment