Kilty Switch Kronikles
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Fucky McCranky

(Fucky McCranky)

A summer road trip for two couples in our convertibles. Sweeping views of massive fields. Crops beginning to ripen in the August sunshine. Mile after mile in southwestern Ontario, just inland from the north shore of Lake Erie. Of all the Great Lakes, Erie has the smallest volume of water. Our destination is the most Southerly point of land in Canada, Point Pellee. This point of land is on the same line of latitude as Northern California, and Rome. We had chosen the town of Leamington and a cozy family Motel for two nights as our base of operations for a ferry ride, visit to a winery, and bus tour of Pellee Island.

We got settled into our adjoining rooms. We began our planning for the next couple of days on the comfortable patio in front of our rooms.

Our new neighbours arrived on a bicycle built for two. Hoping to share travel stories over the course of the evening, we wave hello. Our greetings are barely acknowledged as he ducks into his room; his reluctant back seat rider dutifully trailing behind; offering a hesitant, almost apologetic hand wave. We continued assembling our itinerary, quickly recovering from the semi rebuff. No harm done. Nothing could diminish our enthusiasm.

When I say "recovering from" the perceived slight, I really mean building a profile in the most judgemental fashion I can summon. My, "turn the other cheek", and, accept people for who they are, Judeo-Christian ethics, had morphed over the course of an ever-hardening life to where I am now. Harsh, intolerant, cynical and suspicious. Heavily laced with a healthy dose of sarcasm; manifesting itself more to the sarcastic end of the spectrum than the outright physical violence scale. I've also found over time, judgement and sarcasm to be more hurtful and effective than simple physical violence when inflicted with surgical precision on an adversary.

Riding his tandem bicycle.

Smug in his superiority that he is somehow better than others simply because he rides a bicycle; tandem no less. All that holier than thou; save the planet; "I'm environmentally friendly and you're a slathering Neanderthal, narrative". I presume he makes notes to remind himself of his superiority, as he strokes his salt & pepper beard in a vain attempt to give off an air of intellect.

In my mind, it wasn't so much his dismissive attitude towards us; we have pretty thick skin; not even the obvious emotional abuse his wife appears to be subjected to at his hands. What tipped the scale for me was when he sternly complained to the very diplomatic Motel owner, belittling her right in front of us, about some perceived deficiency with his room; the bar fridge wouldn't accommodate his celery slushy or the like.

His beleaguered, somewhat defeated wife cast a longing glance our way as we kibitzed on the patio of our motel room; in the same way a young impressionable girl in a cult longs to just be allowed to live a normal life outside the grasp of her controlling leader. Sadly, she's an emotional captive more so than a physical captive as evidenced by her resigned appeal.

If he is as surly to her as he was to the motel owner, then I feel sorry for her. We may witness his terrible behaviour fleetingly, but she must endure on a daily basis.

Maybe she secretively deals with his feeble ineffectual attempt at control by slipping powerful laxatives into his granola some mornings just to enjoy a break and a little chuckle in her otherwise unfulfilled day. On these tortuous rides, she is literally trapped in his slipstream breathing in the remnants of his environmentally friendly deodorant which falls short of its advertised effectiveness; along with methane emissions from his last vegan bean binge. Poor thing.

They peddle away, he in his euro inspired Lycra-spandex one piece riding outfit, complete with black mid-calf dress socks tragically pursuing his goal which he can't wait to relate to his disinterested co-workers.

We critical guests carry on in our usual shallow manner, enjoying our lives with gratitude; completely without pretense.

Our motel hosts continue creating a welcoming hospitable atmosphere for appreciative guests.

My hope is the Fucky McCrankys of this world will one day just carry on and go about their lives doing the right thing for the right reasons, sans judgment, so the rest of us can too.

My only response to those who would say, "there now, does that make you feel better?" Is a resounding "well, he started it"…

Thanks for a lovely stay, and the free entertainment.

Now, where should we go next year???

Perhaps a bicycle trip….

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