It’s been an extremely extremely frigid January in Toronto, which is typical. No really, it is.
But every time I think of how cold it is in Toronto, I tell myself that at least it’s not Montreal. There, the winter air is so cold and dry that it burns your nasal pipes and air sneaks in through your heavy-socked winter boots giving you frostbite on your toes. Never mind the sheets of ice all over, so that you actually have to slide rather than walk, if you care to remain upright.
My most vivid memory of our Montreal trip is of our very eventful final night. It was a dead-of-night winter, erm, night, when my husband and I dashed out in our PJ’s and hastily put-on boots, to chase down a tow truck towing our car away into the silent dark. We were running in what was -25 degrees, on little hills made of yet another round of snow on top of the ice, desperately trying to catch up to the tow truck. The damn truck was picking up speed as it headed into the main intersection.
We COULDNT let our car get towed, as we were leaving Montreal to return home, early in the morning. Thats why I was running shrieking, “Attendez, s’il vous plait!”
But curiously, I barely felt the cold. Must have been the adrenaline.
Luckily, a white van sped past us, reached the flashing tow truck and told them to stop. This gave us time to catch up. The tow truck guys fell sorry for us for chasing them without even a jacket, apologized and released our car to us right there. With a $100 fine. But whatever, I’ll take it.
Turns out that we couldn’t park during a snowfall on our street, as it would be blocking the snow truck on the very narrow street. Of course, our Air Bnb host forgot to mention this crucial fact.
I would never know who that Good Samaritan in the white van was. They sped off before we even realized the favour they had done for us that winter night.