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The Secret

October 7, 2011

I’ve been a licensed driver since about as soon as I was legally able. I got my learner’s permit in Ontario the day I turned 16. I have had access to a car most of my adult life, with very few exceptions along the way.

I’ve owned or leased one car or another, continuously, since the spring of 1990. My Kia is car number 4. The thing is… I don’t like driving at all. My driving record is pretty decent, and I am a careful driver. As my bike collection approaches its critical mass, so does contempt for my car.

I’ve been hit twice from behind in the past two weeks while commuting to my temporary east end office location. It was startling, but did not damage the car. The bike rack mounted on the trailer hitch serves double-duty as a cow catcher of sorts. It’s no wonder my car insurance rates went up in my urban relocation.

Today I spent 3.5 hours after work on the local highway, in getting back to my home with the children, meeting my tenant in the suburbs to exchange keys for cheques, and in returning home to the children.

My office is rumoured to be moving downtown as early as next week.


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