By Jim Hagarty
1991
The best thing about the country is, it’s not in the city.
So, when you want to get away from noise and traffic and people, pleasant or unpleasant, it’s the obvious, best place to go. Turn your car down a back road in any township and just drive away from the problems of modern-day living. It works better than the best tranquillizers on the market.
At least, it always has for me.
But it seems that even that little private pleasure is getting harder to come by in this complicated, high-tech world.
One day recently, I needed just such a spin down a gravel road or two. Day in and day out in front of an newsroom computer screen, my telephone ringing on the desk beside me, was starting to get to my nerves. I was feeling like a chicken in a wire cage, just chompin’ down the feed and layin’ those eggs.
So, I decided it was time to flee for an hour, middle of a working day or not. I needed to see some barns and fences and fields and trees. Not wanting to explain all this to anybody, I simply told a fellow reporter in the newsroom I was heading out on an “assignment” and disappeared down a lonesome concession road.
My “assignment” consisted of a coffee to go, country music on the radio, 20 kilometres an hour and endless stretches of sideroad. Things were working out great. The sun was shining and the scenery was having its usual calming influence. And nobody knew where I was. Nor would they know. Not ever. My little secret.
Just about then, I slowly drove by a white and green station wagon which was parked on the shoulder of the road. Two men had a big video camera on a tripod set up behind the car and were shooting footage of an old farmhouse. As I inched by the car, I read the large letters of a local TV station which were painted on the side. As I drove, I looked in at the farmhouse to see what all the fuss was about.
But, I kept on going and enjoyed my afternoon of playing hookie.
In retrospect, I might not have had such a great time had I known that my little adventure had been captured by the cameramen and that my car and I would be prominently featured in a story on the 6 and 11 o’clock news about the old farmhouse. In the morning, fellow workers kept smirking and asking me how my “assignment” had gone and finally revealed how they’d seen me driving around on the TV news the night before. As the day went on, I soon learned that apparently, I was the only person for 20 miles around who didn’t have the TV on that night.
Even my sister said she she’d seen me on the news.
“But, you couldn’t really tell it was me, could you?” I asked, nervously.
“Well, yes,” she said. “It was a real close-up shot. You could see your car very well from behind.”
“But, you couldn’t actually see ME, could you?” I pleaded.
“Well, yes,” she added. “It was a pretty clear shot from behind and when you turned your head to look at the house you could see your glasses and everything.”
Still, I was convinced that not too many people could have recognized me. Until I learned that my three-year-old niece, who was watching from a way across the room, yelled out: “Hey, there’s Uncle Jim on TV.”
I’m back in my cage again.
I should have another egg ready any time now.
