|Frank shows off his dance skills for the fun of it|
By Frank H. Black
August 29, 2016, Hanna, Alberta. The day begins like most of our days this summer. We go to the library and check on new house sitting sites. I either return to our RV, Big White, to play tunes or go for a walk to check out the new town and take some photographs.
This morning has a new twist.
While I’m away from our vehicle, a woman named Ashley backs out from her driveway across from our bus onto the wide street and crashes into our front wheel. The big lugs puncture her back bumper but leave no apparent damage to our vehicle. She and her husband locate Susan in the library and leave their phone number in case there is some damage.
Later, I survey the bus and have it checked by a local body man.
Afterward, I continue with my walk about and am suddenly shocked by the sharp sound of a siren. I turn around and see that I’m being approached by a Royal Canadian Mounted Police vehicle. Constable “Jake” gets out of the car, leaving his partner behind.
“We had a report that a guy in a kilt was dancing in the street,” Jake says.
I look at him and think that he is joking.
“Good thing I didn’t bring my bagpipes, eh?” I say.
When he asks if I know any good tunes I’m filled with confusion. I ask him to clarify.
“Did someone really call about this dancing in the street thing!?” I say.
Jake confirms. “Yes, we got a call describing a guy in a kilt dancing in the street.”
“Do you have any identification?” Jake says.
I hand him my driver’s license which in turn he hands to his partner who then checks the computer in the police vehicle for its authenticity. Everything is clear.
I’m told by the officer that anything out of the ordinary, for example, like me wearing a kilt, can throw some of the locals off.
“If you had been wearing blue jeans and suspenders, they wouldn’t notice you,” one of the officers says.
What comes to mind, is that one person's opinion or observation, statistically, represents one hundred others’. Hmmm. Red-neck town comes to mind.
I explain our lifestyle to the officers; point to our rig which hauls our Ural motorbike. Jake shows an interest in seeing the Russian Ural and I’m happy to oblige. Together, the three of us talk for a short while about bikes. I’m left with the impression that the RCMP are on top of things.
Before leaving, they express their pleasure in meeting me. They say I’m unlike some of the characters they usually deal with.
My suggestion is that if you wear a kilt don’t go the Hanna, Alberta. They may confuse walking with dancing. LOL.
|Frank as he usually looks|