Pendant les dernières semaines, je travaillais fort sur deux projets : la révision d’un manuscrit ainsi qu’une série de tableaux. Les travaux avançaient lentement, car, comme beaucoup d’entre vous savaient déjà, je traversais une période difficile. Mais depuis quelques semaines, la vie allait beaucoup mieux. Je dormais. Je me sentais « réveillé » et non pas épuisé … comme je me retrouvai … enfin.
Les révisions au manuscrit terminées, deux propositions d’expositions acceptées, je décidai de célébrer ces accomplissements en passant une journée à Montréal. J’allai visiter le Musée d’arts contemporain et magasiner un peu au centre-ville. Ça me permis de dîner au nouveau restaurant de Louis-François Marcotte, Le Hangar. Impressionné par la cuisine ainsi que le service, je dis à mon conjoint qu’on y irait ensemble la prochaine fois qu’on serait à Montréal.
Le samedi 5 mars dernier, on assista aux funérailles d’un oncle de mon conjoint à L’Acadie. Après on passa la nuit avec un ami et sa fille à Longueuil. Le lendemain, nous quatre allèrent ensemble au Hangar où on savourât un brunch délicieux. Après avoir dit au revoir, mon conjoint et moi allâmes au Musée des beaux-arts. Le foyer était plein de gens qui faisaient la queue jusqu’à l’entrée. Je voulus voir l’exposition des Photographies françaises du XIXe siècle et non pas celle de L'empereur guerrier de Chine et son armée de terre cuite ; c’était la dernière qui attirait tout le monde. Moi, qui n’aimais pas les foules, je décidai de partir et de revenir une autre fois.
As we left Montreal, the sky was a dull grey. It was cool but not terribly cold. For those familiar with the highways in Quebec, the 10 was wet but not icy. The “rain” spattering against the windshield was the result of the water being kicked up from the tires of the car in front of us and not actually rain. We hummed along towards Sherbrooke like we had done so many times before. As we approached the stretch of highway between Granby and Bromont, the road conditions changed quickly and dramatically. The wet roads were now slick and dark … dry-looking but anything but. The car slid but my partner, who was driving, managed to keep control. We slowed down while other cars zoomed by us. Less than a kilometre later, we hit another patch of black ice. This time, there was nothing to do but pray …
It is an odd feeling to be in a car that is spinning out of control; and all we could do is watch and hope for a “happy” ending. It happened so quickly yet at the same time in slow motion. I sat in the passenger seat bracing for the worst — a hard impact as the car slid off the road. As the road disappeared out of sight all I could see was whiteness — the snow banked in the ditch. And then the car rolled — once, twice — all I know is that at one point we were upside down and then, when it was over, parked on one side.
When we realized we were all right, I unbuckled my seatbelt and lifted myself out of the car through the passenger side window (I don’t know how I did that since I was suspended in the air — it must have been the adrenaline kicking in). Several cars had stopped to help, and after placing the call to 911, the police, firemen and ambulance services were on-site in no time at all. We were all right. At the worst, shaken, but we came out of it all without even a scratch.
Two days after the accident, we Sherbrookois are trying to cope with over 50 cm of snow. Many are complaining that they don’t know what to do with it as they shovel their driveways. Pedestrians and cars share the roads as the sidewalks have yet to be cleared. The bright March sun bounces off the glistening snow. I won’t complain. I’m happy to be alive.
Les révisions au manuscrit terminées, deux propositions d’expositions acceptées, je décidai de célébrer ces accomplissements en passant une journée à Montréal. J’allai visiter le Musée d’arts contemporain et magasiner un peu au centre-ville. Ça me permis de dîner au nouveau restaurant de Louis-François Marcotte, Le Hangar. Impressionné par la cuisine ainsi que le service, je dis à mon conjoint qu’on y irait ensemble la prochaine fois qu’on serait à Montréal.
Le samedi 5 mars dernier, on assista aux funérailles d’un oncle de mon conjoint à L’Acadie. Après on passa la nuit avec un ami et sa fille à Longueuil. Le lendemain, nous quatre allèrent ensemble au Hangar où on savourât un brunch délicieux. Après avoir dit au revoir, mon conjoint et moi allâmes au Musée des beaux-arts. Le foyer était plein de gens qui faisaient la queue jusqu’à l’entrée. Je voulus voir l’exposition des Photographies françaises du XIXe siècle et non pas celle de L'empereur guerrier de Chine et son armée de terre cuite ; c’était la dernière qui attirait tout le monde. Moi, qui n’aimais pas les foules, je décidai de partir et de revenir une autre fois.
As we left Montreal, the sky was a dull grey. It was cool but not terribly cold. For those familiar with the highways in Quebec, the 10 was wet but not icy. The “rain” spattering against the windshield was the result of the water being kicked up from the tires of the car in front of us and not actually rain. We hummed along towards Sherbrooke like we had done so many times before. As we approached the stretch of highway between Granby and Bromont, the road conditions changed quickly and dramatically. The wet roads were now slick and dark … dry-looking but anything but. The car slid but my partner, who was driving, managed to keep control. We slowed down while other cars zoomed by us. Less than a kilometre later, we hit another patch of black ice. This time, there was nothing to do but pray …
It is an odd feeling to be in a car that is spinning out of control; and all we could do is watch and hope for a “happy” ending. It happened so quickly yet at the same time in slow motion. I sat in the passenger seat bracing for the worst — a hard impact as the car slid off the road. As the road disappeared out of sight all I could see was whiteness — the snow banked in the ditch. And then the car rolled — once, twice — all I know is that at one point we were upside down and then, when it was over, parked on one side.
When we realized we were all right, I unbuckled my seatbelt and lifted myself out of the car through the passenger side window (I don’t know how I did that since I was suspended in the air — it must have been the adrenaline kicking in). Several cars had stopped to help, and after placing the call to 911, the police, firemen and ambulance services were on-site in no time at all. We were all right. At the worst, shaken, but we came out of it all without even a scratch.
Two days after the accident, we Sherbrookois are trying to cope with over 50 cm of snow. Many are complaining that they don’t know what to do with it as they shovel their driveways. Pedestrians and cars share the roads as the sidewalks have yet to be cleared. The bright March sun bounces off the glistening snow. I won’t complain. I’m happy to be alive.
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