the wilds of Coquitlam

I wanted to just post the video of our trek yesterday. No comment, just the train wreck of ongoing wtfery.

Jeff said he wanted to drive somewhere for a client and I made a face. I know how terrible that part of town is (for driving, Coquitlam is quat nahss as far as greenery etc goes) and I wanted to help navigate, so I went in the car with Jeff and almost, but not quite, navigated us into a large scale portal of a Horror Dimension.

Jeff kiboshed the idea of sharing the footage with a right royal Kibosh, because essentially we didn’t do anything but swear at fate, the other drivers, and the signage.

Among other sweary things: the signage on Highway 1 as you drive just short of the Port Mann bridge. The signage as you come off 7B onto Lougheed, which just sucks in conventional terms; the signage that was COMPLETELY OBSCURED BY OVERGROWTH and it’s a fucking good thing I knew which way to direct Jeff to turn; THE FACT THAT NOT A SINGLE FUCKING PLACE OF BUSINESS ON LOUGHEED HIGHWAY BETWEEN THE 7B EXIT AND OXFORD ACTUALLY HAS ITS STREET NUMBER FACING THE ROADWAY.

The footage of us both cursing at all of this will be lost to history, and Jeff’s perfectly happy about that. The joint wail we let out when we saw the grown-over sign, though, that being lost to history mekketh me sad.

The client visit took about twenty minutes.

We solaced ourselves with Mickey D’s and Toim Tayeem.

Finding out that Phil’s ancestors were among the first to move to England – I would have bet money on that.

Published by

Allegra

Born 1958. I write, I sing, I watch TV, I try to fulfill my responsibilities.

Leave a Reply