Terry Vollum: Life in the slow lane

Article content

It was just a little over 23 years ago, way back in the summer of ’02, when Nancy and I made the bold move from the hustle and bustle of Toronto to the peace and quiet of the Village of Stirling. And as I have said many times since, “I only wish we had done it a whole lot sooner.”

Article content

I get back to the Big Smoke every once in a while and essentially enjoy those brief visits to my erstwhile hometown. I suppose I should qualify that remark by stating that most warm and fuzzy feelings are reserved for old friends and family with very little love lost on the sprawling, impersonal city itself. Yet I continue to feel relatively safe there and most comfortable in familiar surroundings. In fact if I happen to be cruising through one of my old neighbourhoods, I will stop, if time permits, just to get out and walk around a bit, while savoring a few pleasant memories. So yes, I will acknowledge an emotional connection of sorts. I suppose it’s a lot like dropping in on an old friend just to see how he’s getting along. Hmmm, that’s some rather inspired imagery, doncha think?

Article content

Recommended Videos

Article content

Article content

OK, that’s more than enough touchy-feely stuff. Let’s get back to discussing my occasional treks to the Big Smoke and, more specifically, the repercussions of the trip itself as it impacts this urban refugee turned laid-back, country boy.

As a rule, I find the first ninety minutes of the journey to Toronto to be quite uneventful. I’ll admit here to a controlled speed of 115 km per hour until I’ve cruised passed Oshawa, where my grip on the steering wheel tightens as I become intently aware of my surroundings. Suddenly, it’s defensive-driving 101 and I am on red-alert as drivers jockey for position, darting from lane to lane, all too often at high speeds, and frequently without warning. Hey, I know what you must be thinking, “He’s getting older and his reflexes are just not up to the pace of multi-lane, super highway driving in 2025.”

Article content

Well, there’s no disputing the first point. But the incredible high rate of speed on that stretch of the 401 is palpable and it’s downright scary for humans of any age. “Hey Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore!”

As three lanes expand to four, then widen to six and beyond, it becomes increasingly more dangerous and difficult to navigate, with so many vehicles swerving in and out – in an all-out, pedal to the metal race to the finish line. And in the blink of an eye, 120 km per hour doesn’t seem all that fast anymore. And that is why it’s always such a welcome sigh-of-relief to exit the multi-lane speedway in order to take Kingston Road into the city itself. The trip back home is a completely different experience. As a rule you can count on a steady stream of traffic along with some stop and go situations until Oshawa is fading in the rear view mirror. And once the Hills of Northumberland come into view you can actually feel the stress of the day melt away because you know for certain that you have left the hustle and bustle of the big city behind.

Take me home country roads…

Terry serves up a little food-for-thought each and every week and welcomes your comments: countrysunshine@xplonet.ca

Article content