← PreviousThe spring that never cameWednesday 27 May
Today we have an appointment at a garage to have the car we decided to buy last week inspected. Except we no longer have a car to inspect: the seller hasn't been in touch for three days. Despite our messages and calls, he has simply chosen to ignore us. The man's lack of seriousness really annoys us: why not just say the car has been sold, rather than leaving people hoping for an answer that will never come? We don't let it get us down: after frantic searching the day before, we've found another one, potentially interesting, that could take its place at the garage. Cassandre is only half convinced by the idea of having a car inspected that we haven't even seen, but for lack of anything better, we'll make do.
As Stéphane isn't working today, he's the one who goes. The photos give a flattering impression of the car, and the seller answers all our questions by message or phone: she has the service book, the repair invoices, and states without the slightest hesitation: “Yes, it's in perfect condition, there's nothing to replace!” A little sceptical about this way of selling, we give her the benefit of the doubt anyway. After an hour on public transport, Stéphane reaches the foot of her building and spots the car parked a little further on. The letdown is huge: the sides are eaten by rust. He takes out his phone, compares it with the photos in the ad and realises they were taken from the perfect angle to hide the damage. Disgusted, he writes to the woman not to come down, that we don't want a rusty car and that it would have been more honest to say so straight away. Under the crushing heat of late May, he goes home empty-handed.
Thursday 28 May
We don't give up! Life is full of obstacles to get over, and not everything can work first time. Cassandre finds another Elantra that ticks all our boxes. After work we go to the new meeting point and come across a charming Lebanese family in exile in Montreal. The father is a panel beater and speaks only Arabic; his twenty-year-old daughter, Pia, translates. The car is superb and, apart from worn tyres, nothing bothers us at first glance. We test-drive it with Pia and we're won over. She then shows us all the inspection papers, which reassures us, but we still want a garage of our choice to examine it. No problem: we leave confident.
Friday 29 May
We told you winter had trouble giving way to spring, which in the end never came. This time summer seems here to stay. This week Montreal is having its first heatwave of the year. For four days the thermometer flirts with thirty-five degrees and on Wednesday even climbs to thirty-eight, the highest temperature ever recorded in the shade in the city's history. It's all the more striking, and worrying, since it isn't even June and we saw snowflakes falling three weeks ago. Add seventy per cent humidity and you'll get an idea of the furnace. We had the brilliant idea of going for a run in this weather: let's just say we left fifty litres of water behind. In many parks, free paddling pools and splash pads welcome families; they're overrun this week, and physical distancing no longer seems to worry many people.
Thursday 4 June
It's the big day: we're finally getting the car we want to buy inspected. Cassandre is working, so Stéphane goes alone. The appointment is at 4 pm at a garage thirty minutes away by bus, recommended on the Montreal working-holiday Facebook group as reliable and not too “dispendieux”, as they say here. Pia arrives on time, at the same moment as Stéphane. The inspection lasts almost an hour and ends on a positive note: apart from the worn tyres, the car is in perfect condition, with no sign of any mechanical problem. Our choice is confirmed. Next week we have an appointment in Laval for the registration, waiting times in Montreal being far too long, and we agree with Pia to collect the car that day. We celebrate the good news with a toast in the park next door, a ritual that has become weekly, as for every Montrealer deprived of bars.
Wednesday 10 June
Today Stéphane goes to the SAAQ, the Quebec motor insurance board, to register our new car and seal the change of ownership. Unlike in France, here the plate belongs to the driver, not the vehicle. Never having owned a car in Canada, we're buying our very first plate. Then you pay the registration, the equivalent of the French carte grise, and a tax: in Quebec you pay sales tax again on a second-hand car as long as it's less than ten years old. That outrages us a little, since the state already collected it on the first sale, but we're not going to rewrite Quebec politics today. Still, we wonder how Quebecers put up with being fleeced like this when you see the state of the infrastructure: badly built roads, not enough hospital staff, public transport that leaves a lot to be desired across the province… In short, if you think you pay too much tax in France, don't come to Quebec, you might hurt yourself. If La Belle Province were a country, it would apparently be the second most heavily taxed nation on the planet.
The icing on the cake: you have to pay that tax again every year on the purchase date, and pay for your driving licence on your birthday. If Stéphane had taken his Quebec licence today (the service is suspended because of Covid), he'd have had to pay again on 2 July. Go figure… Anyway, he comes home with the plate, ready to collect the car. The family welcomes him with open arms once again, the money changes hands, and he drives off in a pretty white Hyundai Elantra.
Friday 12 June
Now that we have a car, we can widen our search for second-hand camping gear. Two chairs on sale for 30 dollars on Facebook catch our eye: they're waiting for us in Varennes, at the home of a retiree with an immaculate lawn. He demonstrates them; they look sturdy, with metal frames on each side. He paid 70 dollars each ten years ago and is parting with them to lighten his move. Deal done, and we test them in real conditions that same evening: in the little park at the end of our street, among the crowd, we unfold our new acquisitions and enjoy the mild evening with a few beers and some saucisson.
Saturday 13 June
Shops outside Montreal having been allowed to reopen, we head for Brossard, on the south shore, to do some shopping at Decathlon. Covid oblige, a long queue snakes around the building and we wait a good twenty minutes before getting in. But when you think about it, isn't this system better? You wait longer outside, but once inside you have all the room you want, you don't bump into other customers and there's no queue at the till. We're alone in the camping aisle, free to choose our sleeping bags at leisure. It won't be cold: we go for a ten-degree comfort model, topped up with a small blanket. In the games aisle we pick up some bats and a frisbee. In France that little disc inevitably takes us back to childhood, but in Montreal you constantly see adults having fun with it.
Back in town, we meet up with Guewen in one of the many parks and christen our frisbee straight away. We're soon hooked, and without noticing the time we play for almost two hours. After a convivial dinner at his place with one of his flatmates, we get home around 11 pm. Time flies when you're having fun!