Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe - Car Trouble – Driving Lessons & Car Wash

Episode Date: May 2, 2025

"Thank God, he thought, help has arrived.”Today on the show, Jess shares a back story about a Vinyl Cafe tour bus adventure. Plus two Dave and Morley stories about more car trouble.“ Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

You know that feeling when you finally step away from the noise, take a deep breath, and feel everything slow down? That's New Brunswick. Here you can swap traffic for towering cliffs and crowded spaces for endless coastlines. Let the world's highest tides at the Bay of Fundy wash your stress away. Sink your toes into Canada's warmest saltwater beaches and let the rugged beauty of nature do what it does best—reset you. Spend your days exploring untamed wilderness, hiking to breathtaking views, or paddling

through calm, open waters. And then, as the sun sets, trade your hiking boots in for city lights. Think chef-driven restaurants, open-air patios, live music, and the hum of a downtown coming to life. It's the perfect summer road trip where the great outdoors and vibrant city life meet, and the only thing on your to-do list is to breathe it all in. Visit sensesnb.ca to start planning your escape today and get a sense of New Brunswick. From the Apostrophe Podcast Network. backstage at the Vinyl Cafe. Welcome. Today on the show, two stories about vehicular difficulties.

I mean, after an intro like that, I think I should just get straight to it, and that's what we'll do. This is Stuart McLean with driving lessons. You may not have heard the big news out of Calgary from before Christmas, the news that Tom Spear got his license renewed again for two years. Tom is 101 years old.

He passed the eye examination. He got the doctor's note. He got the government approval. And this is news because most people 101 years old don't drive. Actually, most people 101 years old are dead. But if they weren't and they wanted to drive, probably they wouldn't be allowed to. Someone would tell them that their eyesight wasn't good enough. You get to be an age like 101 when you really need a car.

Your legs give out on you. And they won't let you drive just because you can't see. Poor vision does not necessarily have to be an impediment to good driving. I've got a friend, Carl Spillman, he's 87 years old, he can't see much past the end of his nose but he's still driving and he has an accident-free record. He just does city driving and only on routes that he has more or less memorized. And he doesn't go anywhere without his wife, Catherine. Catherine sits in the front seat and talks him through the drive. She says, you better watch that truck.

And Carl says, I know, I see it. Which side's it on? Catherine says, left. And then she says, it's time to turn. And Carl says, I know, which way? And it works. So I think it's a shame when a senior citizen has to give up their license. Morley's dad, Roy, gave up his license when he was 83.

He started to get anxious about driving when he turned 80 because in those days in Ontario, they made you take the test every year after you turned 80 years old. He'd get cranky for three months before the test because he was nervous about it. Nervous but he kept driving anyway. Nervous because he got his first speeding ticket when he turned 81. Forty-five kilometers in a 35 kilometer zone. He was incensed it was his first violation ever. And then one day Roy and Helen were in the garage downstairs on their way to the supermarket

and he was revving the engine. And Helen said, what are you doing? And he said, I'm backing up, why? And Helen said, well, why don't you put it in reverse first? It was just a lapse. He was thinking about something else, but it worried him. I want to keep driving, he said to Dave. I couldn't stand it if I couldn't drive.

And then one day he phoned Dave at work and he said, I'm at the liquor store, you better come and get me. Roy had actually gone to the grocery store to pick up a case of pop and a dozen eggs and some orange juice, but when he was pulling out of his parking spot at the grocery store, he put his Buick into reverse instead of forward. I don't know, he said, I just did it. And when he pressed on the accelerator, the car lurched backwards instead of forward. I don't know, he said, I just did it. And when he pressed on the accelerator, the car lurched backwards instead of going the

way he expected it to go. Roy said it felt like the car had been possessed by a demon. And he knew he had to fight the demon. And the only way he could think of doing that was to press harder on the accelerator. He actually didn't work out what had happened until he hit the car behind him. It was a little red Honda. And then he made his fatal mistake right there. Instead of getting out of his car and checking the damage, he took off.

I don't know, he said, I guess I was thinking they might take my license away or something. All I could think about was that I had to get away from there. If I would have stopped, I know, said Dave. And when he pulled out of the parking lot and up to the stop sign, Roy checked the rear view mirror. And to his horror, he saw that the Honda was right on his bumper. And the guy in the Honda was shaking his fist at him. He wasn't thinking straight, said Morley.

He was scared of losing his license. He was scared of being old. I know, said Morley. Now as soon as there was a break in the traffic, Roy roared out onto DuPont Avenue. He never drove that fast in the city in my life, he said. Even when you were a cop, said Dave. I don't know, said Roy. I was going pretty fast.

And when he checked his mirror again and saw the guy in the Honda was right behind him and not just following him, right up against him. Roy thought, the bugger thinks he can tailgate me. I'll show him. He took the corner at Howland Avenue almost on two wheels and the Honda came screaming around the corner. Right on his bumper, Roy thought, this is nuts. So he sped up. He kept checking the mirrors. He went down howl and that's when he noticed the guy in the Honda was still waving at him. In fact, he wasn't only waving, he was pounding on his windshield.

With both hands. Roy thought, how's he doing that? Driving so fast and so close to me without using his hands. Which is when he realized the guy in the Honda wasn't driving. Roy was doing the driving. The Honda was hooked onto his bumper. Roy was dragging the Honda through the middle of Toronto like a fish. I can't believe this, said Dave. What was the guy doing? Well, he was banging on the windshield, said Roy. And then instead of stopping, Roy decided to try and shake him loose.

I turned around and waved at him, said Roy. And then I started weaving from side to side. A jerk on the wheel like, slowing down, speeding up. You waved at him? Said Dave. Oh, I smiled, said Roy. He must have thought you were crazy. He must have thought he was going to die.

I think that's when he started honking the horn," said Roy. The two cars finally separated when Roy took the corner at Barton. He saw the Honda fly off across the sidewalk and hit a tree and stop. He didn't hit too hard, said Roy. Was he hurt? asked Dave. I don't think so, he said. Roy hadn't stopped to check.

Instead of hanging around, Roy drove to the liquor store, and he bought himself a pint of Jack Daniels. And he phoned Dave, and he said, you better come and pick me up. When he arrived, Roy was sitting in the passenger seat of his car. Dave watched him for a moment. Saw him take a swig of the Jack Daniels., watched him fingering the dashboard as if he were saying goodbye.

When he turned around and saw him, Roy handed his keys to Dave, said, you drive it home. That was driving lessons. That's an old one, recorded back in 1995. If you've ever been stranded on the side of the road, hood popped, steam rising, waving down a passenger car, then you know car trouble is one of life's great equalizers. We had our fair share of it out on the road. There are dozens of stories I could tell you about our car troubles on the road, or I guess I should say our bus troubles. Let me tell you this one.

It was February 2007 and we were on tour in the Maritimes. Miramichi, Moncton, St. John, Glace Bay, Mabu, Fredericton, Summerside, Charlottetown, Truro, Wolfville, Halifax, and Anaganish. Traveling in the Maritimes was always great because the drives from one town to the next were pretty short. If you're traveling in the prairies, the drive from one city to the next can be 6, 8, 10, even 12 hours or longer. But in the Maritimes, the drives are short.

Short enough that you're mostly doing them during the day, which is a total luxury. You can leave at a really civilized time like 11am. I remember the day we drove from Glace Bay to Mabu. It's an easy two hour drive. Or it should have been. But that morning Stuart woke up with an idea. He decided we should take the scenic route. Stuart loved the slow roads, the road less traveled, and on this particular day, he decided we should take the Cabot Trail. If you've ever driven the Cabot Trail, you know this. It's spectacular.

It's a ribbon of road that hugs the cliffs of Cape Breton, winding through forests and over hills with jaw-dropping views of the Atlantic. But what you also need to know is that the Cabot Trail was not designed for a 45-foot tour bus. I reminded Stuart of this, emphatically, but he was undeterred. It'll be beautiful, he said. Trust me. So off we went.

Shortly after we started, we realized we'd made a wrong turn. Not just a little wrong turn, but like a very wrong turn. Our bus driver, who by the way deserves a medal for what happened next, decided we had to turn around. I don't know if you've ever seen someone attempt a 3 point turn in a car on a narrow road, but I can tell you this, trying to turn a 45 foot tour bus around on a narrow, icy road, it's a production. It did not go smoothly. We got stuck. And not just for a minute or two. For hours. I remember that street

like it was yesterday. The houses hugging the road, lines of laundry flapping in the breeze. Yes, in February. And as the minutes passed, people started coming out of those houses and onto the road. Partly to help, but let's be serious. Also to watch. Like I said, it was a production, a show, and it was not to be missed. I remember one old-timer saddling up next to me and saying quietly, whatcha doin' in these parts? Which I took to mean, how did you get yourself into this

mess? But in that classic maritime way, everyone chipped in to help get us out. Someone brought out a bag of sand to help with traction. Another neighbor gave our tour bus driver gloves and helped him put the chains on the bus tires. I vaguely remember someone bringing coffee and donuts. It took two or maybe three hours to get unstuck. And by the time we did, there was no time left for the scenic route. But I guess we'd already have the scenic route. We didn't

get to see any of the beautiful lookouts on that trip, but we saw something else. The kindness of strangers. And that's the thing about car travel. It's not fun. It's not not convenient, but it almost always leaves you with a really good story. I have the best mother-in-law. Her name is Joni, and I am so lucky to have inherited her as family. She's loving, thoughtful, supportive, and she's amazing at keeping in touch. Even though we live about seven hours apart,

she has a great relationship with us and the kids. She sends little packages and cards in the mail just because she's that kind of mom. I try to do the same for her, but with two little kids and a full-time job, I don't do as good of a job as I'd like. And that's why I'm so excited about my Mother's Day gift for her this year.

It's an Aura digital frame, a frame where we can share our family photos directly with her. I just send them from my phone and they pop up in her frame, another province away. Aura has a great deal for Mother's Day. For a limited time, listeners can save on the perfect gift by visiting AuraFrames.com to get $45 off plus free shipping on their best-selling Carver Mat Frame.

That's A-U-R-A-Frames.com. Use promo code VINAL. Support the show by mentioning us at checkout. Terms and conditions apply. And I was hoping this would be a surprise, but since I know Joni listens to the podcast, well, happy Mother's Day. I love you so much.

["The Day of the Dead"] Welcome back. Time for our next story. If you listen to the Vinyl Cafe on the radio back in the day, then you'll remember the Vinyl Cafe Story Exchange, the segment where you wrote the stories. There were only two rules. The stories had to be true and they had to be short. After that, it was up to you. We received so many great stories and Stuart read some of our favorites on the radio. This was one of them. This is a story sent in by Ian Turner of Nanaimo, British Columbia. Friends who know me well have become accustomed to the strange things that happen to me. There are, however, some occasions so strange that leave them shaking their heads in disbelief. One of those would be the automobile accident that I had in my station wagon.

The car was great, but it would give me trouble from time to time. Mostly it was the starter. The starter used to jam in the on position and begin to smoke. Normally I'd fix the problem by getting out of the car, lifting the hood, leaning over the engine and giving the starter motor a good smack. On the fateful day in question, that's exactly what happened. The starter jammed. I got out, lifted the hood and leaned over the engine. But before I administered the redemptive smack, the wind, the strong prairie wind, blew the hood down right on top of me. I couldn't lift it.

I was trapped under the small but heavy little hood. I was halfway in the car and halfway out. A bad situation about to get worse because as the hood closed, the car popped into gear. The gravity of the moment began to sink in when I noticed that I was being slowly dragged across the gravel parking lot. I remember thinking if I could grab the battery cable, I could stop the car.

As I reached to grab the battery terminal wires, the car bounced across a shallow ditch through an ornate wooden fence and smacked into a garage wall. The second I realized that I was still alive, I did grab the battery wires and any other wire I could get my flailing hands onto. The car shuddered and died. After the police had gone through the obvious questions, drinking, the effects of substance abuse, we all had a good laugh. Luckily, it turns out they did not have a charge for self-inflicted hit and run. The letter came to us from Ian Turner of Nanaimo, British Columbia.

That was Stuart McClain reading a story written by Vinyl Cafe listener Ian Turner. And that was from the Vinyl Cafe Story Exchange. Time for our second David Morley story now. This is Stuart McClan with The Car Wash. It's one of those car washes you wouldn't necessarily notice if you didn't know it was there. Tucked behind the coffee shop, off the road you take if you're going out to the airport, which is what Dave was doing. Going to the airport. Going to pick up his neighbors, Burton Mary Turlington.

Saw the coffee shop and glanced at his watch. He had plenty of time. And so, on an impulse, he turned left at the next light, went around the block, and pulled up in front of the big glass door. The car wash is one of those automatic operations. There are no attendants. You pull up to the door, you insert your credit card in a little gray box and you choose what level of service you want and you wait there for the door to lift up. They put his car in park, pressed a button on the armrest beside him to open his window. Trunk popped open. Rolled his eyes, he tried another nothing and he began stabbing buttons at random.

Dave was struggling because this wasn't his car. The car belonged to the Turlington's. The Turlington's had gone to Vegas for a week. Bird had dropped by the evening they had left. The car's in the shop, said Bird. It won't be ready until Monday. I was wondering, could you pick it up for us? Mary's new Lexus. Surprise and joy. Bert handed Dave the keys. Feel free to use it while we're away, he said. And Dave ended up doing that. He used it twice.

And now Bert and Mary were coming home from Vegas and Dave was on his way to the airport to pick them up and he thought, well you know he could surprise Mary. He slid his credit card into the machine and stared at the billboard beside the car wash door. He could choose from seven options. Well, he went right to the top of the list, the Premium Super Deluxe Wash, 1995. Now, Dave and Mary Turlington have had their, what should I say, difficult moments. There have been any number of things that have gone wrong over the years.

The night he lit and then completely melted her treasured choir boy Christmas candles. The ones that have been in the family for decades. The winter he iced her into her house with the artificial snow making machine. I guess I don't need to go down the list. You seem to know all this stuff and And if you don't, it is to Dave Chagrin all in print. It's all there to read about. But what you need to know is this. Mary got the Lexus six months ago. She had a good year at work, a great year.

And she had always wanted a Lexus. Well, get it, said Bert. And so she did. Four doors, leather interior, a kind of golden brown finish. It's called Champagne, said the salesman. Well, I call it perfect, said Mary. She doats on it. She's out there every weekend hosing it down. So despite all of Mary and Dave's ups and downs, or maybe because of them, Dave wanted to do this thing right.

So when the driver's side window finally slid down, Dave chose the premium super deluxe wash which included the undercarriage pressure rinse and the hot wax treatment because he wanted to show up at the airport with the car at its best. His credit card, which had disappeared from view, reappeared and he retrieved it and popped it back in his wallet. And the sign on the wall began flashing, advance, advance, advance, advance. So Dave slipped the Lexus into drive and he inched forward, rolled over a sensor and the big garage door began to rattle up. Next sign read, put your car in neutral, close your windows.

Looked around the car, one, two, three, four windows all closed, neutral, check, windows, check and he sat back. He'd always loved this. The journey through a car wash. He imagined it was like riding a rocket into space. Car all dark from the foam-flecked windows, the sound of the water hitting the side panels, the mysterious rocking back and forth. He tightened his seatbelt and reached down for the button that would tip his seat back to spaceship horizontal. And as the seat slowly tilted back. He began the countdown. Ten, nine, eight, seven. This is a literary device.

I'm building traumatic tension here. Six, the car gave a little lurch. Five, four, one last glance at the dashboard. Three, day frowned. Two, there was a glowing red light on the dash. One, it was the open trunk icon. He popped his seat, fumbled with his seat belt, and reached for the door handle. He jumped out of the car.

It's okay. Wash hadn't begun yet. And he took a step toward the trunk. And when he did that, he tripped a sensor that triggered the high-pressure underwater. A blast of ice-cold water hit his crotch. And it hit with enough force to lift him off the ground. When he landed, he gasped and reached for the side of the car. But the car disappeared in a white cloud of water vapor. And that's when he noticed he had left the driver's door open behind

him. That's when he realized that he was caught betwixt and between. When he realized it was time for action. So he lurched back and he slammed the door shut, and then he took a deep breath and he headed for the trunk and he slammed it shut too. Wow. Wow. The spray had stopped. He was soaked, but more or less just from the waist down. The important thing was the car was all right. And so he headed back for the driver's door.

And when he got there, he pulled the handle. And then he pulled again. Exactly. The door was locked. And the keys were locked inside. And that's when the conveyor engaged and the Lexus shuttered and it lurched and it began to move. And the only thing Dave could do was stand there in horror, the untethered astronaut,

watching in disbelief as his spaceship floated away. His first instinct was to look around. Part of him praying he'd see someone who could help, more of him praying that he was alone. David Bean threw enough situations like this to know this that whatever was about to happen, it would undoubtedly be better if there were no witnesses. He still hadn't moved. Though it was beginning to occur to him he shouldn't just stand there while Mary's car rolled away unattended. And so, seized by fear and panic, never the most helpful

emotions, Dave ran around to the front of the car, leaned against the hood, and started pushing backwards, trying to push the car back toward the doors he had just driven through. And it's while he was doing that that he felt the reassuring tap on his back. Thank God he thought help has arrived. And he smiled. And he let go of the car. And he stood up and turned around. And it was when he was turning that he was slapped in the face by a giant wet hula skirt which began slapping him left and right and right

and left and while it slapped him it began lathering him up and with a felt slapping and the water spraying and the lather lathering and no obvious way out, Dave did the only thing he could think of doing. He followed the path of least resistance. He jumped up onto the hood of Mary's car. And he sat there like an oversized hood ornament as the car passed under and through the wash arch. He made it through the soap and the spray by the skin of his teeth. And he was sitting on the hood trying to wipe his stinging eyes when he heard a distant whir.

A whir that began in the distance, but was getting closer by the second. And so he pulled his shirt out and he rubbed his stinging eyes clear with his shirt tails and he peered into the future. And his heart nearly stopped. He was staring at a monster rotating brush. A brush that looked like a street sweeper and it was heading his way. Before he had time to react, the brush hit him and it hit him like it hit any other loose object in its path. It hit him like he was a piece of dirt that had to be removed. And it would have done that. It would have picked him up and spun him around had Dave not grabbed on to Mary's windshield wipers, which saved him,

and then snapped off and became entangled in the spinning brush and began flapping around at over 60 beats a minute, spanking Dave's bottom with disturbing enthusiasm until they abandoned him and beat their way over the roof of Mary's car, leaving Dave the hood, the perfect position for the hot wax treatment. That's more or less the moment when he gave up. Foam flecked and defeated, he lay back on the hood and he rode through the final rinse, which wasn't, as it turns out, unpleasant. Soft and warm like a tropical rain.

Would have almost been relaxing. Was he not blinded by the wax foam? And was he not startled by a distant roar of wind? Sounded like an approaching freight train. It was the dryer of course, but Dave was too muddled to figure that out. When the wind hit, it hit with such a force it felt like it was peeling his eyelids off. He began to scream for help. Flying on the hood of Mary's deaded car, his eyes closed, kicking and screaming like a newborn baby. He was still screaming when the garage door opened and the car rolled out into the coffee shop parking lot. Laughter

Screaming so loud he didn't sense the crowd gathering around him. Laughter Until the guy with a ball cap stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder. His shirt was torn off. His pants were in tatters. He was half naked, beaten, and bruised.

But he was exceptionally clean. Someone called a tow truck. Tow truck guy arrived, opened the driver's door in the blink of an eye. And the crowd, as crowds do, drifted away. And Dave stood there alone beside Mary's car, bare chested, foam-flect and dripping. He looked down at his tattered soaking pants and then at Mary's leather seats. There was no way he could drive to the airport like this. Reached in and pressed the button and popped the trunk again. Thought he'd spotted a gym bag back

there. After all that, he still made it to the airport on time. He was waiting there for Bert and Mary when they came out the gate pulling their suitcases behind them, waving enthusiastically. They spotted him right away. They would have known him He was wearing a pair of Mary's stretchy yoga pants. And a lime green sports bra. Bert and Mary were still out of earshot. Bert stopped and looked at his wife. He said, should we ask? No, said Mary, don't ask. I just don't want to know that was the story we call the car wash we recorded that story at the Upper Canada Playhouse in Morrisburg Ontario back in 2012 in Morrisburg, Ontario, back in 2012. All right, that's it for today, but we'll be back here next week with another Dave and

Morley story. Like most people who have a thing for history, had a thing for trains too. And it was Jimmy who, long after it had stopped running, hatched the plan for they could all take a ride on the Newfie Bullet. The bullet was the narrow gauge railway that ran across Newfoundland and was shut down, torn up, and replaced by the hated road cruiser. Road cruiser, Jimmy would say rolling his eyes. That'd be a bus in English. Then he would

cock his head and take a pull of his black horse and he would say, you know, you can read all about the bullet in the Bible. And he would leave that hanging there for as long as he thought he could. Jimmy had excellent timing. And then he would smile real slow and he'd add, yup, right in the Bible. Right there where it says the Lord made all things that creep and crawl. Twenty-seven hours and twenty- minutes, said Jimmy.

St. John's to Port Obasque. Average 20 miles an hour. That's next week on the podcast. I hope you'll join us. Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe is part of the Apostrophe Podcast Network. The recording engineer looks fantastic in lime green, Greg DeCloote. Theme music is by Danny Michelle and the show is produced by Louise Curtis, Greg DeCloote, and me, Jess Milton.

Let's meet again next week. Until then, so long for now.