Did the same run on Labour Day with no hitches. Yesterday... dear god. Crawl crawl crawl on the Don Valley Parkway. Crawl crawl crawl on the 401. Crawl crawl crawl bumper to bumper on the side roads of Whitby because someone's tractor trailer was having engine trouble, by the look of it. Expected to be an hour late because, well, places it took fifteen minutes to reach in September took forty-five plus now. Arrived on the dot. Do not ask me how.
One reason I am not a driver is that I can't take the bumper to bumper thing. I would have gone screaming mad yesterday except that in the seat across from me and a little in front was a guy who came prepared for the trip with his Mac laptop and a bunch of DVDs. This is how I came to be watching Road House, of all the things I would never watch otherwise.
(Guy was an anomaly. In addition to that film and another about guys torpedoed at sea, he wore ancient jeans with rips and paint splashes-- so yeah, we has us a manly man. Saw more of same on the P'boro buses and oh are they loud. Except this guy used the soft-spoken educated language of-- err, well, an upper-middle class Englishman, is what it reminded me of, though his accent was pure Canadian.)