The first time Lori asked me to take the pick-up truck on an errand, I took a wrong turn and had to drive through all of Qualicum Beach (which isn’t a big place, but still) before I found a place to turn around on. All the while, I got really worried about the gas – because one of the things I was supposed to do was getting gas for the truck. What if I ran out before I reached the gas station?
I didn’t luckily, and filling the tank worked fine aswell, even though it was my first time ever to pump gas (why didn’t they teach me that at the driving school?). The other errands were also taken care of, but my heart was pumping like crazy all the time. The pick-up truck is a big car, huge, and it felt almost dangerous driving something that big. And the parking was a nightmare.
When all the errands were done, I was in Parksville. Lori had told me to go to the beach, just to get a whiff of the ocean. And oh, was it nice to walk out on the sand, watch the seagulls fly above me and let my heart calm down. It is stressfull, taking the truck on errands.
The beach at Parksville is beautiful. I understand why people want to retire there. Because that’s what they do. Move here when they’ve retired.
The trashcan at the beach had a funny, fancy sign. And you know I like signs.
The drive back was a lot easier. I knew where I was going this time. And for every time I drive the truck, it feels less and less monstruous.
Katja Malmborg 