We had a fascinating stop in Wawa in 1967 and then an entirely different one, but just as fascinating, in 2024 for entirely different reasons.

Wawa is considered the Black Hole of Canada. Even in 1967 we heard stories of hitchhikers there getting stuck for days.

When I visited it this autumn, it reminded me of a glorious road trip I had taken with 4 friends in 1967. The infamous trip to Montreal. That was more than 50 years ago. We were all about 17 years old.   Sid Barkman, Eugene Reimer, Roy “Rocky” Kehler, Mike Penner, and I had travelled to Montreal to see Expo 67 in Sid’s less than stellar 1957 Chev.  We had 3 flat tires the first day. And more after that.  We had made a deal with Sid that he would be responsible for the cost of oil and the rest of us would pay for all the gasoline.  We thought Sid was getting off easy, as he deserved, since he supplied the vehicle, but it turned out that he probably paid as much for motor oil as we paid for gasoline. We could see black exhaust fuel trailing us most of the way.

I remember that in 1967 Sid had urged the rest of us to climb up onto the back of the Wawa goose and he would take our photograph.  The rest of us thought this was stupid and we did not follow instructions. That might have been a big mistake I would love to have that photograph now. Oh, the folly of youth!

That 1967 trip was made just before the end of the summer of 1967. 4 of us had just finished grade 12 and would soon be entering a new life. Eugene had already finished one year of university. He was a worldly traveler compared to the rest of us rubes from the sticks. We all had our dreams and lives in front of us. We were on the precipice of we did not know what. Flying off on the back of a goose would have been a glorious send off. But sadly, we demurred.

We had just learned to drink that summer, even though the legal drinking age was 21. Near Wawa, we stopped at a café for lunch  and when the waitress asked us what we wanted to drink, we shyly looked at each other and no one spoke until Rocky, the youngest and shortest and bravest of us, piped up, “I’ll have a cherry brandy.” When the waitress did not bat an eyelash at that, I chimed in, “And I’ll have a martini.”  I wanted to be cool and had seen James Bond order that in a movie. At least I didn’t request it to be “Shaken not stirred.”  The rest of the lads quickly made similar requests and we were in business.

In Montreal we spent a lot of time in pavilions and bars and ‘rides’ at La Ronde.  To us that was high culture. The folly of youth again. Not much culture was absorbed, but we did learn things at those pavilions. Our attempts to attract girls met with little success, as was to be expected of such hayseeds.  There were few girls around stupid enough to look at us.

Our time in Montreal was a glorious adventure. Every night we slept in my leaky tent. One night, we visited a night club in the city of Montreal and amazingly met some older and wiser Steinbach boys who looked down on us with bemusement. One of the boys spent his last dollar in Montreal to buy Russian cigarettes and had to beg the rest of us for change to eat on the way home. One phoned the manager of the Credit Union back home to verify to a restauranteur that his cheque for dinner would be good. In Wawa we spent the night. As we left in the morning,  the police followed us out of town to make sure we had no ideas of sticking around. The Head of the Chamber of Commerce would not have welcomed a scruffy bunch like us.

It was a  trip I am sure none of us will ever forget. That was what it felt like. For us it was one last glorious adventure before we became adults. It actually took. a long time for adulthood to catch us, if it ever did. By the time we were traveling home we were all broke. Virtually all of us were on verge of bankruptcy. Our entire net worth splurged. But what a great cause.

But I still wish we had sailed that Goose in Wawa as Sid had begged. He had the right idea. The rest of us were dullards.