So picture this in your mind, it's about 10pm on Friday night. Ken and Wendy are being spontaneuos. They've left Toronto to travel along the 401 to Upper Canada Village. They left late (being spontaneous and all) so they decide they will drive part of the way Friday night and the rest of the way Saturday morning. Their drive is going well, until they hear a terrible scraping noise. Wendy can even see sparks in her side mirror. Ken successfully navigates his way to the shoulder (thankfully of an on-ramp) and they investigate. There is Petunia's muffler lying on the ground, barely hanging on. They search the trunk, what are they to do? "If only I had a rope of some sort," said Ken. "Aha," said Wendy, "take my belt." And there in the dark, with trucks and cars hurtling by, Ken crawled under Petunia and attached the muffler to the frame with Wendy's belt.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Petunia and the Muffler
So picture this in your mind, it's about 10pm on Friday night. Ken and Wendy are being spontaneuos. They've left Toronto to travel along the 401 to Upper Canada Village. They left late (being spontaneous and all) so they decide they will drive part of the way Friday night and the rest of the way Saturday morning. Their drive is going well, until they hear a terrible scraping noise. Wendy can even see sparks in her side mirror. Ken successfully navigates his way to the shoulder (thankfully of an on-ramp) and they investigate. There is Petunia's muffler lying on the ground, barely hanging on. They search the trunk, what are they to do? "If only I had a rope of some sort," said Ken. "Aha," said Wendy, "take my belt." And there in the dark, with trucks and cars hurtling by, Ken crawled under Petunia and attached the muffler to the frame with Wendy's belt.
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