Close Encounters of the Magnetic Kind

Now we're not saying that Magnetic Hill caused our breakdown: only that it's rather coincidental that we were forced to pull off the road in the vicinity of geological freak-of-nature. Our theory holds until someone points out that the phenomenon of Magnetic Hill is an optical illusion. The steam rolling out of the coolant tank was definitely not a trick of the eye. The Jetta was seriously hot. And it was a shame, given that Sam had snuggled into sleep and Jeremy was snoozing soundly and I was enjoying the drive--everything running smoothly with Plan A until the thermostat shouted PLAN B.

Having let the car cool down on the highway roadside and in a service centre parking lot (while we DQ'd it up. Sam's first taste of the hot eats and cool treats), we risked the 12 kilometre slow cruise to the next exit rather than calling a tow truck and taxi out from Moncton to deliver us all who knows where. With the engine light flashing and the 4-ways blinking, we winced against the possible slow murder of the family car, relaxing as we rolled into the ramblingest, roomiest looking Holiday Inn there ever was. No vacancy? Perhaps we looked like riff-raff? Jeremy rolled the car into one of their parking spots (after I took my foot of the brake: hey!? it's a driver's side reflex! I was tired..! and a bit dumb, yes) and we hurriedly gathered up a few supplies and the still-smiley Sammy and race-walked through the rain to the Comfort Inn up the street. Sam stayed up till 11 watching tv. He's lovin' the hotel life.

Jeremy was up and out before 7, hopeful of a quick diagnosis and fix from Canadian Tire. Sam and I played in our pj's a while and then moseyed about the place for fun and spent some time in strange, circular chat with Dolores, the Breakfast Room Lady. The child ate like a teenager, bringing muffins back to the room to enjoy with cartoons. Breakfast in bed: another luxury he could obviously learn to love. A few back-and-forths on the phone with Daddy and it became clear we'd be stranded in room 232 for the foreseeable future. After shelling out for Canadian Tire's confused shrug, he was having the car towed to the VW dealership. Maybe another night in town? Sam was okay with that.

We played hide & seek for entirely too long, considering that one's choices were in the tub or behind the bathroom door; Sam leapt from bed-to-bed like a maniac for a while, enjoying the surprising freedom of a mother who's not that concerned about bedspring longevity; we played pillow avalanche (8 feather pillows!), made goofy movies and watched disconnected little bits of this and that on The Family Channel. A benevolent manager tracked us down to give Sam a Comfort Inn bear, which he spent a good deal of time sitting on (I don't know why). In short, Sam behaved as tho this delay was as entertaining a pit stop as the zoo.

Jeremy arrived back at 1:00 with the news that VW would have the car ready at 3:00. Turns out the water pump was broken. In half. After he spent some time wrestling his keyed-up son and dog-piling him with every scrap of bedding in the room, we took our appetites to Don Cherry's and ordered up a lunch/dinner feast. Sam happily ate his weight in brownie sundae. As we were settling up, VW called us for pick-up: the Jetta was right as rain (and it was pouring rain). Other than the sketchy weather in places, it was a relatively uneventful drive home. Sam slept like a baby. And 10 hours after we picked up the route in Moncton, we were tucking him into bed in home-sweet-home. A really, really great summer holiday trip in the books.