My daughter and I have taken 2 1/2 road trips together, two to the States when she was a teenager, and one across western Canada when she was older. We've taken many trips all three of us, of course, but the mother/daughter ones were crazy. Good memories, all.
Somewhere in Saskatchewan, we wandered down an off-the-beaten-track road (there are no off-roads in Saskatchewan, you just end up in a wheat field if you go off-road). We were looking for a bird sanctuary that was supposed to be in the area. The bird sanctuary was never found.
We stopped in the middle of nowhere at a little old farmhouse. We stepped out of the car, walked up the driveway, and knocked on the front door... then became abruptly aware that giant mosquitoes were upon us, millions (think Carl Sagan) and millions of mosquitoes.
Now, to a Saskabushian, this would not be worth thinking about, and it is highly unlikely that the hapless farmer inside ever suspected the cause of the ensuing show. The fact remains, though, that we are innocent BC-ites, unaccustomed to such things, and our troubled senses could not cope with these massive flying animals, creatures so big they could have been mistaken for dogs, had they barked.
They didn't bark, though. We did. The farmer never did answer that door, and I think I know why. To his wondering eyes he must have seen two women approach in a normal fashion then suddenly go beserk, with flailing arms and indescribable squeaks.
He would then have seen these two women spasm (and trust me, there is no other word for it) their way back to the car, half-running, half-walking, kind of running twisted, as one might run to dodge machine gun fire, squeaking and laughing uncontrollably.
He would then have seen these same two women in the car, leaping about in the seats, seemingly attacking the car itself with great gusto, determined to, apparently, force it into some sort of mechanical obedience. He would have seen maps and other items flinging through the air, all the while noises emanating that probably gave him nightmares for weeks.
Perhaps that farmer has friends in BC. Perhaps one day those friends will say, 'Hey! Farmer Bob, why doncha c'mon out here for a visit!' But you know? I just don't think he's going to get around to it.