The Edmonton to Regina Trip

When my grandmother passed away, my father's mother, my elder brother had already departed the house ... but my sister and I accompanied our parents from Calgary to Edmonton, where she'd lived.  As Ruth Ross, her maiden name, had chosen not to leave a will, my father found himself on the verge of a vicious backstabbing fight over a fairly valuable collection of housewares and artworks, including books, china and high-end furniture.  The memory of the ordeal would remain with my father for the rest of his life, more than forty years ... and affect his approach to his own will, as both my father and mother remained certain that their children would go at their legacy like jackals as well.

To spare my 13-y.o. sister and me, aged a year younger, my father chanced upon two cousins of his, a married couple, who happened to be on their way to Regina in Saskatchewan, when my mother's parents lived.  Sis and I were handed over to them, though they were total strangers to us; I don't even remember their names, and in years after I'd never see them again.

The net tells me now that it's an 8-hour drive between Edmonton and Regina, but my memory says it took much longer than that.  We did it in a day, with the couple driving a large four-door "land-yacht," as we used to call big cars during the 1970s.  My guess would be that it was a Ford LTD.  This trip took place in 1977; the car didn't have air conditioning, as hardly any cars did at the time, especially in Canada.

Soon after we left, as we approached the Saskatchewan border, the temperature began to climb.  It was summer; I think the first week of August.  As the temperature topped 100º F, the usual practice of leaving the car's windows open began to fail as a relief.  By the time we'd reached Battleford, the thermometer was hitting 105º F.  I vaguely remember our stopping to let the radiator cool down — but it was no relief to get out of the car.  This is also a time when gas stations equally lacked air conditioning, and when none of the little towns along the way offered much in the way of services to travellers.

How I remember sitting in the car, the windows closed, sweating without my shirt on.  The baking heat was so brutal, we couldn't open the windows; the rush of hot air was instantly suffocating, so that even the slightest cracking of a window was impractical.  The gas odour of the vehicle added to the misery.  No one want to talk or move, as we dragged ourselves over the flattest and hottest part of Saskatchewan.

We reached a little town called "Craik," just 60 miles from our destination.  It must have been late afternoon, though I don't remember for sure.  We stopped in Craik, which had about 400 people; apparently, it still does.  There was a little grocery store, the kind of dingy, freon-smelling place that every little town has.

The power had died in the 110º heat and the only drinks we could buy were very warm.  I remember trying to force down a grape soda which did nothing to alleviate my discomfort ... I suppose my sister and I were a terrible burden that day on a couple that knew us as little as we knew them.  When we finally arrived at my grandparents house, of course this couple, part of my dad's family, had no relation at all to my mother's family.  I'm probably mistaken, but it seems we were more or less pushed out, though of course our luggage had to be unloaded, and polite greetings made.

I have no memory of what happened after, except that we stayed two weeks with my grandparents before our parents came to collect us.