Vroom.

On Friday night, in the middle of a huge fork lightning storm, Ian and I started our journey to Watkins Glen racetrack in New York state. What an eventful journey we had, from Ian convincing himself we were lost to me seeing Amish people for the first time and getting far too excited over it, from the horrendously expensive cars, to seeing said horrendously expensive cars returned to their owners in a bucket after one spin out too many. Prior to going, I had asked Ian what I could expect to see over the weekend. I received a response, dripping with sarcasm, "Cars, Eileen, cars". Turns out we were attending the biggest vintage racing event in the United States. And we had HOT PASSES! I will admit that when I was handed the hot pass I was oblivious as the advantages it afforded Ian and I. We were allowed amble through all the garages, the pits, the pit stop areas and the technical areas. Of course the only thing that I wanted to see was a spectacular crash. There was only one, which I somehow missed, but I did catch sight of the remains. The area where the car shells were placed resembled a car morgue what with all the broken parts covered by white sheets.

Over the course of two days I saw a lot of cars and have decided that my favourite is the Ford GT 40 cos it looks nice. No technical reasoning at all, although I was assured that I had made a good choice.

The race was being held near the small town of Watkin's Glen, but Ian and I were staying in a little area called Painted Post. How amazing are Americans with placenames? Our hotel was a pretty swiffy place and was right next to Denny's, the American culinary experience. Everyone had told me Denny's was a nasty place, that the food was terrible and that I would probably die after a plate. Well those people obviously haven't tried the Extreme Grand Slam........... or a real Irish breakfast for that matter.

Travelling from Canada into the States was one of those "Please, not again" situations. Havnig stopped at the border, Ian and I were directed to 'Room 1' to await processing as I was not a citizen of either border country. As soon as I stepped into the holding room, I could feel the depression. The room looked as though it might have been a bathroom at some time in the past and was painted that disgusting public bathroom green. Sitting in the room were five men from Pakistan and India and a family of seven from an area of Africa. After sitting in the room for 4o minutes I was starting to get on the wrong side of grumpy, but felt even worse when me, the white girl, was allowed entry into the States before the Indians, Pakistanis or Africans, even though they had been waiting far longer than me. How just......................................................?

Returning to Canada took an entire 3o seconds. Anyone think America is overdoing it slightly?


I noticed at the race meet that the majority of the people there were middle aged if not older. Once explained to me it made a lot of sense seeing as some of the cars in show cost in excess of a million dollars and I do not know many twenty one year olds that can afford such wheels.

Typical. On Sunday night I was floating around the Toronto city area. Brad Pitt was doing similar and somehow he missed me. I need to formulate a plan for next year. Better strategy will be developed.

In happier news I have discovered Dairy Queen. Well, not just Dairy Queen, but the Blizzard. There are 11 toppings to choose from. Except me to be found, unconscious, in a pool of melted Blizzards with all 11 toppings in and around me.

All you can eat sushi for lunch. I may be ill. There is a parfait cup in the fridge. If I have to manually make room in my stomach for parfait I will do so.

Weekend plans are all set. I am going to New York state for vintage car racing with Ian and his Mom and Dad. I shall not be racing cars, although I am quite sure there are some of you that would be willing to pay to witness that debacle.

Looks like I will be particpating in the process that built the Americas. Immigration. After much thinking, discussing, and attempts at getting my head around the Canadian Immigration method, I feel that it is more advantageous to get my hands on a residency card, as I will be afforded far more opportunities in Canadia with permanent status. It is a long process involving a large chunk of my bank account, a medical from some Canadian approved Irish doctor and a thorough police check into my background. How delightful. I will be starting the process towards the end of September once I am back in Ireland, and will stay in Ireland, until I have been approved. It throws a rather large dent in the plans that Ian and I had, but it is the best in the long run.

So with that in mind I shall dedicate myself to enjoying my time here in Canada. Not that I haven't been doing that already, what with the lakes, the zoo, the barbeques and the parfait I found at a local store, which may result in me paying for excess personal weight on my flight to Ireland. Of course I have managed to justify my consumption of said parfait by "jogging" to the store...... not that I can see any immediate results.