Approach Angle 141
Al Vandervelde
You will find in this issue a story on importing a truck into Canada. Like many of my trips it was not without its adventure. Not the truck buying process, but other parts of the trip. Getting close to Christmas, I was trying to make the return trip from Tulsa to Kelowna before Christmas Eve. With some delays sorting out paper work and finding a truck it was getting pretty close. In that time a major snow storm was battering parts of New Mexico, Texas and a whole lot of Colorado. The timing of the storm? - the day I got to Tulsa. The weather network was easy to follow on my Blackberry, so I made an alternative route that took me East to Kansas City along the border of Nebraska through South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho and Washington. Yup, it was flat, but scenic.
The trip started with me packing cash for the truck as the persons bank wanted to hold a money order for seven days and a wire transfer for 24 hours; and I wanted to make it home for Christmas.
I stepped off the plane in Tulsa after a 4 connector red eye, yup feeling fresh as a daisy and wide awake – Not. The airport was swallowed in thick fog and, being a bit early and with nothing to do at the airport, I jumped into a taxi for the 15 minute trip to the persons bank.
Goggle maps gave me the time it would take to get from the airport to the bank, but I didn’t think much about the location and, never being in Oklahoma, I didn’t really think about looking before hand. The taxi drove off through corn fields in some back road short cut that the taxi driver knew, in order to deposit me in a bank parking lot in the thickest pee soup fog you can imagine; it was thick enough I could not see the other side of the road. Once deposited on the bank's door step, I noticed it did not open for 40 minutes, so here I stand suitcase and laptop bag, 26G cash in my pocket, in a thick fog in who-knows -where Tulsa. Yeah I felt great, and somewhat unarmed… unless I could make some smooth move and karate chop someone with my cell phone... unless I could make some smooth move and karate chop someone with my cell phone.
Very few cars rolled by but I did see movement in the bank at least someone would hear me scream for help like a little girl – cuz that was my plan if anyone came close to me looking as though they wanted to chat. As the fog lifted slightly I could see a tire store across the street that was open, then a large building across the street - a Mall: wow civilization! Oh... Hold it: a boarded up mall: Back to plan “A” - scream like a little girl and practice my cell phone karate chops, in my head of course. If someone inside the bank saw me really practicing karate chops I’m sure the next thing I’d see would be cop lights and a automatic gun in my face or whatever cops carry in corn filled Oklahoma these days.
As the bank opened, I rolled my cases inside to wait for the truck owner, and was met by a very nice staff - of course they were busy wondering why some guy with suitcases was on their door step at 8.45 in the morning. It turns out one teller lived, for a time, just south of Edmonton: who would have guessed? Their coffee was good, so I settled in to wait.
Truck in hand, I had 2500 miles to cover and some very flat mid-west country to traverse. Everyone I met in the area was beyond nice, I even met a lady in a McCafe on the interstate (she was making the coffee) who has a brother-in-law in Duncan, BC who runs a Lama farm – yup: Lama farm, on Vancouver island - who would have guessed? While I don’t think I’ll be spending a lot of time in America's Heartland, I can say I won’t have to worry to much if I do the people were great and I think I can pass on the cell phone self defense techniques.