Once I was calling on one of our service stations in Prince George B.C., which is more than an eight-hour drive north of Vancouver B.C. Our rep was Tony Luchachuck. He actually lived out, and by out, I mean he once shot a moose in his back yard. We had spent the afternoon going over pump repairs and problems with warranties. So, I gave Tony a bottle of scotch I had brought for him, and we settled down to have a few drinks and just talk.
A neighbor of his showed up and joined in the conversation. He seemed to be a little out of sorts and was doing a bit of complaining. He kept referring to me as the f—ing yank. After a while he left. Tony’s wife asked me if his demeaner bothered me. I told her no, that I thought he was having some other personal problems. She replied that we Yanks didn’t really understand Canadians. I told her that even Canadians didn’t understand the people where she lived. They had told me in Vancouver that all I would find in Prince George would be Innuits running around in their mukluks. She was about to reply when we were interrupted by Tony.
Tony said, “When they put the Canada US border in, they put it in the wrong place”. There have been arguments over that since the two countries began. So I said, “OK Tony, where would you put it?”. He said, “It should be around Cleveland, and should run north and south”.
Having worked coast to coast in both countries, it almost makes good sense.
