In the mid 50’s my family held a yard sale, sold our Saskatoon home and moved to the coast. Mom drove the wood paneled station wagon. Dad and my brother followed in a seperate vehicle. My three sisters and I were entertained by our batch of dachshund puppies. It was dark from Vancouver to Squamish. Mom gripped the wheel and drove slow over the winding gravel highway and crept along steep faces of granite.
Car sickness, stress, exhaustion – inevitable. The car smelled of sweaty bodies and bologne sandwiches. Puppies grunted and suckled at mama dog in a big box layered with blankets. We left the prairies behind us.