On a sunny summer day back in August (remember those?), the 2021 Toyota Tundra in the driveway looked like it needed a mission.
With no upcoming road trips planned and no projects on the go that required a large pickup truck, I turned to husband Garry for help. He’s usually good at coming up with wacky missions for vehicles. I briefly wondered whether I would regret that decision.
“Let’s buzz around town and do things that start with the letters T-U-N-D-R-A,” he offered. Not too wacky, but fun enough to keep us engaged and laughing.
“Shower and out the door in 7 minutes?” he challenged. “Then we can say ‘T’ is for timed exit!”
“Geez, I’m not Superwoman,” I muttered. But I showered faster than I ever have. We take our silly self-imposed missions seriously around here.
I reminded Garry, once we were strapped into the Tundra, that leaving the house without breakfast is never a good idea.
“I wouldn’t want the ‘U’ to stand for Ugly,” I smirked, acknowledging what happens to the best of us when hunger rears its head. First stop then: Timmies. Between that and the Timed Exit, we figured we had taken care of the ‘T’ in Tundra.
The parking lot of beautiful, historic Africville Park is one of our favourite places for meetings. It offers great views of Halifax Harbour, Dartmouth and the MacKay Bridge. The Tundra is spacious and comfortable and makes for a perfect parking perch.
With our breakfast sandwiches and coffees holding Ugly Hunger at bay, we ticked off the ‘U’ in Tundra for ‘Under’ the bridge.
Satiated, we drove the Tundra out of town. We would fulfill the ‘N’ requirement with a drive through Nature.
Back to town and over to the Dingle, the 112-foot (34 metres) ornate tower in Sir Sanford Fleming Park on the Northwest Arm. The Park is a charming spot for family picnics and the occasional car photography. The letter ‘D’ in Tundra? Dingle. Done.
R is for Refuel – After running around looking for things that start with the letters T-U-N-D-R-A, it was time to refuel… for us not the Tundra. The pub fare at the newly opened Quinn’s Arms on Quinpool Road beckoned us.
With a mouthwatering plate of fish and chips in front of me, my adorably infuriating husband quipped “But wait! We didn’t get anything for A!”
“How about ARRRRGGHHHH?” I retorted, envisioning my meal, unceremoniously tossed into a to-go container, growing cold.
“What if A is for ‘Again’,” Garry suggested. “As in, let’s do this all again? But first,” he added, “let’s eat.”