Yes, you've all heard that it got really, really cold here. Below -40C, in fact, one night. Let me tell you, if you ever want to shake out any problems your car might possibly have, just come on by Edmonton in December. If the slightest thing is out of whack you will be calling AMA and waiting six hours.
I'm not talking about my car, of course. Jason Bourne is as cruel and efficient as he ever was. I'm talking about the one Edmontonian, never the same person of course, whose car stalls on the Quesnell Bridge. Or at the intersection of Gateway and 23rd Avenue. Or somewhere on the overpopulated and under-engineered blessed Yellowhead Trail. "Fucking Rooks!" I shout to myself, conveniently not remembering how I called Mr. W from a gas station the first year we were dating.
It was -35C, my car battery plotzed on 101 street and I was wearing a thin trench coat, a shawl and thin shoes (yes, I was born here and grew up here, shut up). Some nice random Edmontonians showed up out of nowhere within 30 seconds of my stall, pushed me out of the intersection into a parking lot and drove me to that gas station, where they let me use their phone - because we can be assholes sometimes but The Rules in Edmonton state that you have to help people when it's really fucking cold.
I pulled a green foreign exchange student whose car was stuck into my car three years ago. I ripped the tow truck page out of my Go Pages, lent her my cell phone and drove her to her first class. She asked me why I was being so nice and I said #1 It's The Rule, and #2 I finally had the chance to pay it forward.