“You Had Time,” Ani DiFranco Day 4 2,360 km behind us Kenora, Ontario, to as far as we could get Rosimund was starting to feel like an old beast at twenty-five years of age with thousands more kilometres of asphalt behind her. Bangers were like the senior citizens of the highway; you had to respect them and revere them for their mileage. Each day when I climbed on board I said a small prayer to St. Christopher, the patron saint of road trips and rustbuckets. Tom Waits had that funky song that went: “Hang on, St. Christopher,” something something something, that had been growling in my head for several klicks. Throughout the morning I couldn’t help periodically checking the rear-view mirror. I was half expecting to see Finn again, this time maybe lying on the highway, weeping, after being dumped by Isobel yet again. Getting dumped by the same person in multiple provinces gave Finn a tragic trans Canadian epic character. The car felt massive without him in it, though.
