A New Life

In Canada, when one moves from Province to Province, there are many adjustments to make. It is not like moving from County to County in England for example. So herein lies a tale.

Yesterday, Sunday, John drove off early to visit a friend he had not seen in thirty or more years. We were to meet later for a late lunch. It was a lovely sunny day. The roads winding as they passed the most wonderful scenery.

Now, although John has slowed his driving speed down considerably over the years, he does tend to ignore or miss the varying speed signs we can encounter on our drives. These can go from 100kph to 90 or 80 in short spaces of time on the main routes and from 80 to 70, 60, 50 and even 30 in lesser route. Often the signs are obscured by brush. Sometimes there is no warning of an approaching reduction in speed. And sometimes John is simply not paying attention. Now in fairness, I too can fall prey to such lax attention.

On this particular occasion, John had left a 90kph zone and turned onto an 80kph one. This in turn slowed to 60kph and then 50. John had not reduced his speed from 80 as he entered either of the two lesser zones. Suddenly a figure in yellow stood before him waving his arms. The trusted RCMP. They always get their … um … person.

Driver’s licence please… insurance card … ownership… Now John fumbled for the latter. These are all new documents to us since we have moved to Nova Scotia. There it was. Not the small card we had been used to but a large official looking piece of paper. The police officer disappeared with these. In the meantime, John called us to say he would be late. The call was interrupted by the returning officer who handed John a ticket with a hefty fine, albeit politely so.

The Officer hesitated and cleared his throat… “May I ask”, he said, “if you identify as...", he cleared his throat again, "... as a male or a female?” pointing to a prominent “F” on the said driver’s licence. Those who know John can surely imagine the look of utter surprise on his face. John rubbed his thick beard. (He has let it grow more since moving to the sea.) Then he laughed, a little flushed. “I am a man” he said firmly to the politically correct young officer, explaining that we had just received our new provincial licences in the mail and he had not examined it for errors.

Then sir, said the officer, you may want to have the error corrected to avoid confusion in the future. John thanked the helpful young man and proceeded to lunch.

John went in first thing this morning to the licence bureau. He was the first in the door at opening and he announced to the two female clerks, "Well I present you with your first dilemma of the week." A Groan emitted in unison from behind the counter. He handed his licence to one of the clerks and asked "Do you see a problem with this." She replied, "Well not right away." John pointed to the "F" and simply said "Sex". The other clerk called out: "Why? Do you have a problem with sex?" --- Laughter. In the meantime another customer had walked in. John said: "Do I look like a woman?" - pointing to his rather thick beard. The other customer chimed in: "Well these days it's hard to tell."

We had certainly expected our new life in our new Provincial home to be a significant change, a transition of sorts, from our former existence. Little did we know just how much of a transition it could be!