Painting The Town Stainless Steel

Friday night, it seemed, I had the hottest thing this side of the sun. With the crowds gathered 'round, rays from that giant gas ball glinted off the DeLorean's stainless steel and blinded everyone without prejudice.

Friday night was Georgetown's 8th annual Rockin' Rollin' Classic Car Show. And it was a spectacular show, with nearly 400 amazing cars literally filling the downtown core and overflowing onto sidestreets.

But before we made it into town, everyone participating first had to line up and register at a nearby church. Once we were set, we slowly rolled into town where the crowds had already gathered. Most people parked their cars and began wandering, admiring and eating.

I, on the other hand, didn't get much of a chance.

Few of Georgetown and Mississauga's inhabitants had seen a DeLorean before. I was swarmed by inquisitive crowds all afternoon. The positive comments and the genuine interest everyone had blew me away.

Two different people told me my car was the best car in the entire show. Now, I'm not saying it was, because some of those muscle cars were to die for, but it seems that many of these folks see the same cars over and over again. The DeLorean was a treat.

Another man, smiling from ear to ear, told me my DeLorean was his favourite car in the whole show. One fellow, who had come back no less than 3 times to inspect my car told me that it made his night, and was the highlight of the show.

But the highlight of my evening was the glowing woman who first clarified that my car was built in Ireland for the U.S. market, then stated, "I was the import judge last year. I'm not a judge this year, but if I was, I would definitely pick yours to win."

What a thing to say! I couldn't have been happier. Not even more than the 30 or so kids who ran up to the car all night yelling, "It's the car from Back To The Future!"

Cameras clicked away and people bombarded me with questions and comments till my throat was sore. But the only thing that dispersed the crowds around the ol' D was the rain. After a good 4 hours, the downpour started, and not even the DJ from KRUZ radio could convince people it would let up.

We bailed before the trophies could be awarded, which is a shame because now I'll never know if I was actually going to win something. It would be amazing, but I've never tried to win a trophy. To be honest though, if it came down to it, I'd rather have the wonderful comments of the people than a piece of plastic and metal to display on a shelf.

Just Plane Fun

Not long ago I accompanied my pal ST3, whom you might remember from the Eggies vs. Mini Eggs contest, to an R/C plane club. He was excited to go because he had purchased a plane and needed to get his licence to fly it.

R/C planes are wild. They are far more capable than any real aircraft, able to nearly hover in place like a helicopter and perform mind-blowing and head-exploding stunts, especially at the hands of an experienced flyer with plenty o' battery power.

Even though it was raining this day, the juice was still flowing through the planes, bringing applause from the wet audience which contained mothers, fathers, kids and nerds.

When we left, the sponsors were handing out prizes and awards for the best flyers. I threw a paper airplane onto the field, but was disqualified because I didn't pre-register.

A few days later I followed ST3 to a cemetery where he flew his R/C plane high above the decomposing bodies and potential Zombies. Only a few seconds passed before he nose-dived his plane straight into the Zombie-patch, earning him the Martini award for most spectacular, money-wasting crash.

Eliminating Gypsy Moths

Earlier in the summer Suz and I had naively noticed cute little caterpillars wiggling around on our patio. Not wanting to squash their little guts all over the patio furniture, I would catch them and put them up on the branches of our crab apple tree.

Ironic.

A couple of weeks passed and suddenly, one day, I noticed the bark on our crab-apple tree was crawling, but I wasn't smoking anything. The tree was still brown, but also fuzzy. The caterpillars had taken over.

My dad phoned one of his friends who owns one of the largest insect-spraying companies in North America. I forget his name. But the news Mr. Dizzler had was not good. In fact, it was the worst news possible.

The caterpillars were Gypsy Moths, and it was too late in the season to spray them. Our beautiful old tree was on the verge of being wiped out. I was furious. I hate to kill living things and found myself conflicted.

My choices were murdering thousands of Gypsy Moths, or allowing a beautiful 60-year old crab apple tree to perish. I decided the tree was more valuable than the lives of the Gypsy Moths and brainstormed an ingenious way to destroy them.

It was too late in the season for poisons to work, plus they're too harsh to the other living things in our yard. My solution was so simple, and fun to boot.

I torched 'em.

The caterpillars were surprisingly resistant to the heat from the hand-held propane torch. But once I got a few inches from their bristling backs, a sparkling light show erupted on each branch. It was eerily beautiful.