Once Mr. East knew that he could depend on his cigarette butt picking boy as his driver, I was constantly on the road. “Paul go to Brown’s Beverages and pick up some of this”. “Paul go to Marrin’s and pick up some of that”. “Paul go to the bus station and drop this off”. It was a great gig and I made sure I was always on time. Whenever Mr. East was flying in from Killarney, I was dispatched to pick him up and escaped from the resort well ahead of time to the consternation of poor old Bucky, but hey, I was Mr. East’s golden boy and you didn’t mess with me.
Then the inevitable happened. Mr. East needed a saddle and some other gear picked up from this horse supplier place in Toronto. “Morgan, how well do you know Toronto?” “Very well sir”, I lied. “Okay then, I need you to go to something or other store at Bayview and somewhere and pick up some whatever it was”. I strode confidently to the car, drove to the stables and begged the horse lady to tell me where in heck I was supposed to go. She had never actually been there either but gave me some vague instructions about the 400 and 401 and just past the Don Valley or it may have been just before the Don Valley. Great. I scrambled back to the car and rifled through the glove compartment looking for a map. I found one but it had about 10 streets for Toronto and I needed the map showing a million streets. I didn’t dare ask someone at the resort for directions as that might have been seen as a sign of weakness and I had to keep the bold front that I had built for myself in place.
I headed out like any other blue blooded male would with absolutely no idea where I was going. I had a name and an address and 100 miles to figure it out. Just outside Toronto, I pulled into a gas station and asked. “Just head down here, then take the 401 East to here and head south to there and turn right, but watch for ….” “Okay. Thanks.’ No idea and fear was now setting in. I had to get to the Bayview cut-off and I knew that was towards Oshawa and so back behind the wheel I went. It was nearing four O’clock so as I reached the outskirts of Toronto the traffic was piling up and here I was in the Queen Mary manoeuvring my way towards more and more trouble. I got on the 401 east and felt quite confident as I jostled for position all the time keeping a lookout on the signs above looking for Bayview. The tunes were good, 1050 CHUM, and I was in cruise mode for quite some time until I saw out of the corner of my eye the exit for Bayview. Oh Oh! I took a quick glance into the rear-view mirror and cranked the wheel to the right and crossed what seemed at the time to be six lanes of traffic in a few short seconds. Horns were blaring and people were screaming but when the Queen Mary was coming you had to get out of the way and so they did and I was on the exit ramp to Bayview.
The rest was easy. Ask at a few more gas stations and I was there. The trip back was uneventful and I cruised back into the resort just as the sun was setting. I parked the boat and sat there for a few moments wondering how I ever made it back alive. I had missed the staff dinner so when I went into the kitchen I received a guest meal. Oh the perks for being the driver.
