So, as most of you probably know by now, I have made it to Canada! Magpie is here, and we are both in one piece (and so is my car, for now). We did manage to make it from New York to the border with out my car having the engine light on, and it did not explode or anything. As we are waiting in line at the border I noticed it was making some weird noises as we idled. My mother barely notices over the onslaught of complaints about the wait. We have been in the car driving for 3 hours today and like 5 hours yesterday, but suddenly we have to wait at a standstill for 20 min, and she can’t take it. Go figure. Finally we pull up to the border guard, who looks like he is about 16. Am I really that old that I am judging people as too young for certain jobs? While he is asking us a few basic questions, my car stalls out. I do my best to maintain a calm exterior. For some reason I believe that if he knows my car is having some serious mechanical difficulty he may insist that we go get it fixed before entering Canada. Perhaps there is some rule about bringing in cars that  might endanger other Canadians. Maybe he didn’t notice. Maybe if I just turn the car off and pretend like nothing is wrong he won’t insist upon searching the trunk or looking for drugs hidden inside the seats. What if it does not start? What if we are stuck at the border and need a tow truck to come move my car? Can I still use AAA? Eventually he tells us where we need to go in order to get my student visa and hands back our passports. I turn the keys while saying a silent prayer and thankfully the car starts.

 

We head over to the office to get a student visa. Another potential 16 year old looks at all my paperwork, and tells me to have a seat. My dad has parked the other car and comes in to see how I am doing. When the customs agent asks him what he is doing he says “I’m with her,” while pointing to me, apparently assuming that I have some sort of rock star quality that allows for all people to hang out unquestioned. The guy asks for my dad’s passport, and pushes a few buttons on the computer. Meanwhile, my guy is still looking at his screen perplexedly, then he asks the guy next to him for help. Eventually he hits print, walks away, and returns beckoning me over. He gives me the student visa, and tells me I will need to speak to the guys at the other counter about my car.

 

My dad, having been cleared by the second guy, and I get in line to find out what we need to do about the car. A supervisor type person strolling behind the counter notices the guy on the end is just sitting there doing nothing. The supervisor motions us over to him, and informs us that he will help us. This guys looks like a frat brother who stayed up all last night playing beer pong. He in a very casual and fratboylike manner gets the form we will need to fill out, and he said, “This form is self explanatory, well no its not.” He then checks a box, and tells me that it means I won’t have to pay to have my car registered. I fill out the rest of the sheet and get back in line. This time the frat guy is more successful at evading work, and we see somebody else. He asks for the title of my car. I don’t have any idea where the title of my car is. I tell him I don’t have it with me. He asks for the registration for my car. He checks to make sure I have the title in my possession, which I confirm. He takes my paper, gives me another one, and sends me to wait in yet another line.

 

This last line is the cashier. However, I am told I will not have to pay anything, but I will get a receipt. Why I need a receipt when I am not paying anything is beyond me, but I do not argue. This one is much simpler. I go up to the window, give the guy my piece of paper. He makes a photocopy, prints something out, and hands me a pile of paper. He does not specifically say we can go, but he does not tell me to go talk to anyone else either, so I decided we could go. We march right past the outside guys who seem to be there to give a hard time to anyone acting shifty, as far as I could tell. Apparently we aren’t being shifty since they don’t give us a second look. Finally, we are just a toll away from Canada.

 

The rest of the trip was uneventful. We got lunch at Wendy’s, which here has a maple leaf where the apostrophe goes in the logo. From the border its only like 20 minutes to St Catharines. My dad, my brother and I unloaded all my stuff. My brother single handedly carried every heavy or large item up stairs to my room. As soon as it was all unloaded in a heap in my house, they left. It was rather abrupt, but they had 8 more hours of driving ahead of them, so I guess I can’t really blame them. I learned later that they arrived back in MA at 2:30 am. Way past my parents bedtimes, fortunately they had my brother drive so they could fall asleep. Since he had been sleeping in my dad’s car all the way up there it seemed only fair.