The lost art of the Sunday drive

We've had a record 5 straight days of sunshine up here at Someday. After a particularly gloomy January, it's been a welcome change. And sometimes there's no better way to spend a sunny winter's afternoon than to take a nice, leisurely drive along back roads...especially when said roads lead to the town of Neustadt and its awesome pub, The Top End. (I highly recommend the 10w30 beer - aka "a pint of oil" - brewed right in town, and their honey garlic chicken wings)

I think the charm of a Sunday drive is underrated these days. D told me he and his brothers were regularly packed into the family vehicle on Sundays. They'd set off with their parents to Harriston or Goderich or another one of the many small towns that dot Bruce County. My Baba never drove, but when Dede was alive, I can remember going with them on Sunday afternoons to the nearby "les" or forest, just to hang out. My sister and I would hunt for raspberries or beechnuts or fuzzy orange caterpillars as the season dictated; Dede would fish; Baba would sit on a log and breathe in the fresh forest air. It was unhurried; it was pleasant; it was Sunday.

I know it's probably not environmentally sound to go tooting around in one's vehicle just for kicks, and I have nothing against Sunday walks, but there is something to be said for just hopping in the car and taking off with only a vague idea of a destination. On our way home yesterday, D decided to try a mysterious Schaeffer Road instead of Hwy 9. It rewarded us with rolling hills sparkling with snow, a lone white horse standing in a field, crumbly brick farmhouses and the steepest hill I've ever encountered in this area, with a bridge at the bottom so narrow I felt I had to clench every muscle tight as we squeezed through it. The road crooked and twisted and we had to make a few guesses which turns to take, but we miraculously ended up on a familiar concession road, much to D's triumph.

And there's music and conversation to be had when you're driving, too. The most fascinating topics can come up while you're bumping down a dirt road. D loves to try and coax me to sing; somehow, it always feels safer to let loose and belt out a few tunes in the car than it does anywhere else.

I think there are a lot of neat little nooks and crannies to be explored here in the Bruce, and I think Sundays are just the day to do it.