The Drive from Hell - Excerpt 5

The next day, long before the sun came up at 8:30 a.m., I was on the TransCanada 17 Highway, heading west. I told my kids I needed money to get home, or I’d be stranded on the highway. I tried every gas station past Saulte Ste Marie with no luck—the card declined every time. At least I managed to buy an electric water kettle from Canadian Tire, so I could have coffee again. I still don’t understand why my bank honors some transactions and not others, but I’m certain there’s something shady going on.

By the time I ran out of gas on the side of the highway in the Ontario mountains, I was using the flares Blake had made me buy. I texted my kids that I was out of gas and stranded, and according to Google Maps, there was no gas for 40 miles.

Canadian Tire’s motto is “We won’t leave you stranded,” but on Boxing Day, in the remotest part of the mountains, the two service providers weren’t answering their phones. The lady on the phone seemed more upset than I was. "What am I supposed to do, just wait for someone to pull over?" I demanded. She stammered, “I guess so,” and just then, someone pulled over.

It was hard to see, but as the person approached, I realized it was a woman, tall and swaggering, dressed all in black. She waved as she got closer. I told the lady on the phone and ended the call.

The woman, named Sondra, not only had two huge reserve tanks of gas in her truck, but she also had three cats and two kids in the backseat—both vibrant and full of energy. She said they thought I’d been crying when they passed, and after seeing Gigi, she decided to pull over. They helped me out and we ended up caravanning for two days. We shared rooms at night (and yes, Gigi behaved herself). We parted ways in Winnipeg, both of us feeling calm and supported by the other, glad to be leaving Ontario behind.

My kids did come through. Zach sent $50, and my youngest, Reggie, sent nearly $500, which tracked—I was $500 overdrawn, leaving me about $1000 in the hole from the towing costs.

Sondra and I only talked during gas and potty breaks, which we took as sparingly as possible. She was a heavy vodka drinker and a little hard on her kids, and I could see their futures plain as day in their expressions, but one thing those kids would be was generous to a fault.

Sondra told me they thought I was crying when they passed by, and when she saw the dog, she turned to her daughter Natalie and said, “We have to pull over, I think.” Natalie jumped up and down, excited, and they asked me if I’d been crying. “Probably,” I said, and I think I was—especially when the Canadian Tire lady was telling me I was shit out of luck.