Meeting “The Man”
Not God, silly, but close enough.
I was driving home from university in 1993 or 1994 (or maybe it was 1995), and pulled into a gas station to fill up the tank on my old Honda CX650E motorcycle. It was one of those perfect spring days with a deep blue sky, whispy white clouds and plenty of bright sunlight.
As I stuck the nozzle in my gas tank, a car pulled in that immediately caught my attention; a late 1950’s silver Mercedes 300. It’s the kind of car that gives auto buffs whiplash, and I watched as the big chrome three-pointed-star emblem came to a rest only a few feet from my bike.
“Nice car, mister.”
The man turned to me and replied, “Thanks!”
As we made eye contact, I impulsively released the handle on the gas nozzle.
“My god, you’re Pierre Trudeau!”
He looked down at himself and replied “My god, I am!”
I shook his hand and tried to make small-talk with one of Canada’s most influential Prime Ministers. He was charming and gracious, and immediately made me feel like we were old friends.
It was his comment about my motorcycle that really tickled me, though. He said “it must be great to have a motorcycle on a day like this”.
“Sir, I’d much rather be in this Mercedes. I bet it goes like the wind.”
“Yeah. And it would be a lot more fun without the damn photo radar.”
We exchanged a knowing nod, and went our separate ways.
I never did get a photo radar ticket. But every time I see one of those infernal devices, I’m reminded of the Prime Minister’s warning to me, and that beautiful Mercedes sports coupe.
Pierre Trudea wasn’t just influential, he was one of the classiest guys to ever hold the office of Prime Minister too.
That’s indeed a great memory to hold on to.
What and awesome story, a great memory to have!
“my god, I am!” lol that’s funny of him. cool story
A CLK convertable? I want one. It’s on my list of things I want to give myself someday.
K
Crossing paths with history. Great story, Mike.
Do you remember if it was a Petro-Canada?
I met Willard Scott at a BJ’s gas station in Connecticut. I was torn between asking him the weather for the coming week or for any spare Smuckers he may have had on him. Your story’s better.