My Dad the Hero

An excerpt from an email I got from my dad today, edited for space. Photo courtesy of the super-powered cape-maker, Mahalo!


Judy and I are in Montreal for a nursing conference. Yesterday we spent most of the cool, but sunny day on bikes, riding the paths and burning off the petit desjuners of crepes and coffee and the midday repast of patisseries and espresso.

After we got back to the hotel, we drove downtown and I dropped Judy off at HSBC to use the ATM. I thought it best not to hang there, so I said I’d go around the block and pick her up in front of the bank.

Bad choice.

As I headed down Avenue de Rene Levesque, deeper and deeper into the heart of downtown, crawling in the left hand lane, it became apparent that no left-hand turns would be allowed. Several blocks later, I started my way around the block, worried about what Judy must be thinking, when suddenly, I heard the screech of tires. As I glanced into my right side mirror, I caught a glimpse of the black Porsche that swerved from behind me and shot past my right side as we both made the right hand turn onto University Ave.

Turning now to look ahead of me, I watched as he flew across three lanes, left and then right, attempting to maneuver through the thick downtown traffic. He swept sharply to the right and in so doing struck a cyclist, throwing him to the ground in a screech of brakes.

Instantly, the driver leaped from his car and rushed to the cyclist, who was pulling himself up from the ground, and just as quickly, he grabbed the cyclist, threw him against the car parked at the curb and then down to the ground, pounding him with his fists as they screamed at one another.

I immediately pulled over and jumped from the car and ran to the two men on the ground, now surrounded by a crowd of anxious bystanders, everyone shouting in French while I attempted to pull the driver from atop the cyclist. As I pulled his arm away, the cyclist took advantage of his momentary freedom and let a punch fly that knocked the driver’s glasses into the road. Suddenly I imagined the police hauling the three of us off to the station, all while Judy was left standing somewhere on a corner, wondering.

It was now more than twenty minutes since I had dropped her off and several bystanders were calling 911 and cars were piled in the busy intersection in the busiest heart of downtown on a Monday afternoon.

I decided that the police would have a better time handling the participants and that I needed to get back to Judy who didn’t have her cell phone and wouldn’t know even where she was, much less where I was.

The next nail-biting 15 to 20 minutes I spent stuck in traffic in a maze of one-way streets and no-left-turn, no-right-turn signs, fretting my way back through unfamiliar territory to Judy. To say that she was happy to see me when I finally made it back is no small understatement. Fortunately, I had a good excuse for my absence.

Fortunately too, there was a precinct station right on the corner of the street where our B&B was located. I went in and gave a statement of what I had witnessed. They confirmed by computer and by radio that the Porsche driver had been arrested and was now in custody. I don’t know anything yet about the condition of the cyclist.


The rest of the email is about my Dad getting lots of various parking tickets. He said “It’s not 8:30 yet and I’m feeling like taking a vacation from this vacation.”

Well, the vacation may have to wait, but it’s comforting to know that in times of trouble, Canada has a good ‘ole American vigilante at their service!
Published in: on September 23, 2008 at 11:07 pm  Comments (4)  

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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. That was so entertaining….I was very sorry when I reached the end…boo! Don’t know how long they will be on “vacation”, but I’m sure they will be happy when they get home.

    Thank you for sharin.

    Mary of Brush It On

  2. Wow! Your poor Dad!!

  3. What a story! Sounds like it belongs in a t.v. episode of????? Hmmmmm, I’m not sure what show.
    I bet it’s more fun to read about than it was for him to experience.

  4. What a horrendous experience for your Dad! Sounds like Montreal driver are still as bad as they were back in the 80’s. You take your life in your hands.. Hope they enjoyed the trip though. The sights are well worth it.


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