I got a BAG OF TRASH
I GOT MY BAG OF TRASH
I drag it up and down
I DRAG IT UP AND DOWN THE ROAD
How could she LOVE A MAN
Who drags a BAG OF TRASH down the ROAD?

Holy shades of Hitomi Kanzaki! In the last five days I’ve travelled slightly over 3,500 km, or about 2,174 miles. I’ve encountered pronghorn antelopes who could haul ass faster than the average highway speeder; also one extremely cranky moose and something like two dozen deer. I played ‘I Spy’ for four hours. I saw the Cypress Hills heaving up out of the prairie like something from a Peter Jackson movie. I ate a plate of perogies in a diner in Peace River that knocked me unconscious for half a day. I was extensively scrutinized in Maple Creek, Saskatchewan, home of the country’s best cinnamon buns but also, apparently, no ethnic minorities. My colleague, a six-foot-five, three-hundred pound ex-concrete-pourer, smacked a mosquito somewhere near Empress, Alberta, smashing the windshield. I chased tiny, rare blue arrowhead butterflies through a swamp full of enormous dragonflies.

This is the greatest summer job ever.