I don’t really like driving. But now, I can at least say I like our car. For different reasons, the main one being much better pricing (yes, we are greedy people), we decided to purchase a car in Canada and ship it back to Europe together with the 39 suitcases we’ll probably have by then, as well as the Dwarves and potentially our nanny.
Finding the car was easy for me, thanks to the Man who browsed the internet for hours. Paying for it was a nightmare, thanks to the Canadian banking system (and probably our lack of knowledge regarding it). Getting it to Toronto was an adventure, but I am not thanking anyone for this.
Finally, it was there, and we decided to go for a ride. The Man asked me to drive, I reluctantly accepted and we headed to High Park. Yes, during the cherry blossom excitement.
I was courageously slaloming between numerous bikers, families, cars, inattentive pedestrians, while silently cursing The Man, when I noticed a police car had decided to escort us on a couple of kilometers.
As women can multitask, I kept wondering if I had done anything wrong, if all the car papers were OK, and why on Earth the Dwarves would not stop talking for a few seconds.
The police car siren finally went on, I stopped and they got out of the car, asking to see the plates as it did not show very well – we still had our temporary plates.
They were very polite, smiled and wished us a good day, the kids waved them goodbye and could not believe how lucky we were to have been arrested by a real police car.
Did I tell you I don’t like to drive?