Finding life does exist beyond woes of the QEW

Peter Gorrie

SPECIAL TO THE STAR

Strange as it might seem for a Wheels columnist, I didn't do much driving this year – at least not in the form of long trips.

There was a pleasant jaunt in a 2010 Toyota Prius to Walkerton on a glorious summer Sunday, a most comfortable excursion from Winnipeg to Gimli and back in a series of Lexus hybrids, and a fascinating two minutes navigating a Nissan electric vehicle around a pylon course on a Vancouver parking lot. But those were company testers and I don't count them.

What does count were the three months – early June to Labour Day – that my mother, at 94, was in hospital in Burlington and my four siblings and I made sure at least one of us was with her all of every day.

That meant dozens of trips from downtown Toronto to beyond Lakeshore Rd. and Brant St. It's a dull journey, but if the traffic is good it can be done in about 45 minutes.

I soon learned that the traffic is almost always bad. The QEW is invariably overcrowded, especially through Oakville, and even a minor accident or someone pulling off to blow their nose brings it to a complete stop. So these trips became my worst and best.

Worst MOMEnt

At the beginning, when I foolishly stuck with the expressway, figuring that no matter how jammed it was, it would be quicker than any alternative.

Even if things were fine up until Ford Dr., I'd round the big curve and see a festival of red lights up ahead. I'd slow down, stop, fume and rant at the too many idiots who insisted on using this road. If I did flee the QEW, it was only to try to deke around a slowdown and get back on as soon as possible.

At the hospital, I'd report in exasperation that the trip had taken an hour and three-quarters, or two hours or, the record, two hours and 20 minutes.

In all these frustrating hours on the road, I gave little thought to the person I was putting myself through such angst for. That was the worst.

My partner, Denise, kept urging me to abandon the highway. Still, it took some time to see the light.

Best Moment

One day the radio reported complete gridlock and I took the Southdown Rd. exit to Royal Windsor, then Cornwall and Speers to Bronte, down to Rebecca and, after it becomes New St., to my destination. From then on, I'd escape the QEW at the first sign of trouble, sometimes at Southdown; occasionally at Winston Churchill Blvd. or Ford Dr., from where I could zip along the South Service Rd., watching the immobile traffic to my right.

There were traffic lights and short waits, but the drive was generally quiet and a predictable 75 minutes.

Although it took longer than the fastest QEW time, it was without stress. I could enjoy Neil Young or a baseball game or, mostly, reflect on the woman who gave us so much.

I followed a similar route home, except I stayed on Rebecca St. as far east as Dorval, because that alteration took me past the church that was my mother's second home and where we held her memorial service in mid-September.

Given the circumstances, "the best" is too positive a term for those more tranquil drives, with their confusing mix of joy and sadness. But they were, at least, better.

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