In my last post, I mentioned that getting H-mo and my mum from the hospital was a story in and of itself. I really only remember snippets...they go a little something like this:
-being in the ole pop-top VWvan
-being in the van, pulled over on the side of Deerfoot trail (for those of you who have not been to Calgary, it is the major "highway" that runs through the city in a north/south fashion)
-my dad telling me to get away from the van
-feeling like the ditch next to the road might as well be a mountain and being a little afraid to run down it
-standing next to the van with my dad and two car seats while he tried to hitch a ride (really, who wants to pick up a crazy guy with a moustache, a four year old and two car seats?)
-wanting to put my thumb out too
-the person who stopped had an accent
-their car smelled a little funny too
-taking a cab home from the hospital
-I think it might have been green
-wanting to hold the baby
Some of the blanks have been filled in through people (namely my dad) telling the story over the years...apparently as we were standing there, in obvious need of help, people that he knew drove by. The only person to stop was a recent Polish (?) immigrant who wanted to drive us to the hospital, stay and wait while we got my mum and sister and then drive us home.
I don't think the van was ever the same though...I think it sat on our driveway for awhile until someone (and why do I think it was the mailman?) wanted to buy it and fix it up. Good times.