CBC Radio

Today, temperatures dipping into the negative teens before windchill, I load Jude up into the car and drive around the backroads. His feet freeze almost instantly in the frigid December weather and he is content to sit in his co-pilots seat while we go for a rip and listen to CBC Radio. In the northern bush, away from electricity and Wi-Fi and cell service, CBC Radio comes in loud and clear on the car radio. Seven of us, jammed into a small coupe, are driving two hours to McDonald’s. The driver balances a cardboard plate of spaghetti and meatballs on his lap while simultaneously ripping the bong and careening around the corners of logging roads. We are listening to a program about avocados and inflation when we spy a cougar beating it into the brush, visible as it darts across the clear cut. When we miss the city and towns, we crowd around the car radio and listen to the station that makes it into the bush. I imagine the men driving bulldozers and logging trucks and Bobcats, learning about the musical heritage of Newfoundland while they drink Pepsis and cut swathes through the trees.

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