Erin and I had set out to kayak from New York to Hudson Bay. On our previous leg, we’d made it as far as Senneterre, all the uphill bits, and maybe a quarter of the downhill bits.
Now we drove our station wagon up north, boats on the racks, gear in back, to pick up where we had left off. Months of planning would come to fruition, if only we could get out of Teaneck without the car breaking down.
But we couldn’t. The back of the car lurched violently every time we hit a bump in the road, and unfortunate sounds emanated from under our gear. We moved the gear around just in case we’d packed wrong, but that didn’t help the fact that one of the shocks had blown.
We didn’t know what the sounds and shaking were about, since Erin and I are car illiterate. We might be able to make the drive up to Montreal in spite of the lurches, but better judgment prevailed and our kayak laden subaru pulled into the local mechanic’s lot. Amato knows me much too well.
He kept his staff there late, welded the cracked shock back together rather than wait a week for the new part to arrive, and we were on our way again Sunday morning.
We made it out of Teaneck.
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