Curtis the Singin Chevy – July 8

The extraordinary thing about bureaucracy is the different versions you can have of any one supposedly set-in-concrete law. Thus when we were trying to change the registration of Curtis, our indomitable Chevrolet Van, over from the name of the generous Canadian who originally insured him for us, I spoke to a variety of desk-denizens, most of whom told me similar yet different versions of what I’d need to do the job.

Armed with the knowledge that I could probably get it done we drove two hundred kilometres through the Rockies, not in itself an onerous task in this glorious weather with the elk out chewing the grassy verges and the constant threat of bears browsing. Having to cross the border into British Columbia to be validified, we arrived in Golden only to get a different version of the bylaws involved. And were told that we couldn’t swap the rego over with what we had. Oh dear.

So its back to Calgary, where the other night our backyard party was interrupted by the fire brigade, in full lights and sirens blazing-mode, arriving to douse our small campfire owing to its imminent threat to the neighbourhood. We were told that it was against a bylaw.
Less than thrilled, we broke a dozen more bylaws by partying till dawn, to ensure we had horrific hangovers for our fruitless drive to BC. Viva le Revolution.

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