A couple of years ago, I started heading out to car meets pretty regularly. It started with late-night parking lot meets in the west end, but in time I started entering my car into competitions at events like ImportExpo and the Subie Showdown, proper organized car shows. But I still like to slum it with those parking lot meets sometimes, so I keep an eye on IG for interesting events. There’s something relaxing about a car meet where nobody’s handing out trophies, and the only prize is good conversation.
When I saw Elusive Auto Club promoting a cruise through the Forks of the Credit a couple of weeks back, I knew it would be a great event. For sure, the 10 am meeting time on Sunday morning would mean none of those hooligans out street racing on Saturday night would be in the crowd. Those guys wouldn’t even be awake yet!
True to expectations, it was an older ‘cars & coffee’ type of crowd that arrived at Financial Dr. A classic 1968 Mustang GT led the pack, while a primer-grey Fiberfab Avenger on a VW Beetle chassis stole the spotlight from a blue McLaren. There were a couple of young guys in a midnight-purple Mitsubishi Eclipse, and of course, my firstborn Daniel’s Bugeye WRX.
At half-past, a lady named Gina called the crew to order. A quorum of 50 gearheads gathered in the parking lot as plaza security and police cars began to circle. Boss lady announced we would be leaving in five minutes, heading up Hwy 410 to Bolton, then through some country roads to the Forks of the Credit River. That winding road follows the contours of the river and the route of an old railway, and is legendary as one of the greatest drivers’ roads in the province.
After reaching the Forks, we’d be using the back roads to wind through Hockley Valley, ending our cruise about two hours later in the town of Orangeville. She made it exceedingly clear that speeding was unacceptable behaviour, and anyone caught ‘hooning’ would be asked to leave the cruise. Everyone nodded along, agreeing to behave themselves. That promise would last just as long as it took to leave the parking lot.
Once we were out on the road, it was every motorist for himself. Nobody wanted to get separated from the pack at a red light. It was Lord of the Flies on wheels. Stop signs were suggestions, speed limits were ignored, and some of the guys were really crazy, passing cars across a double yellow line, uphill, praying to the car gods that nobody was coming the other direction. I’d like to say I was the voice of reason, but I got caught up in the mob mentality just like everyone else. A man who spends his weekends at racetracks should know better than to drive like that on public roads. But surrounded by 50 other gearheads in sick rides, with adrenaline pumping and everyone trying to keep up, common sense somehow got left behind in the parking lot.
Arriving in the town of Belfountain marked the starting point of the twisty bits of Forks of the Credit Rd. Seven glorious kilometres of twisting tarmac made Forks of the Credit one of Ontario’s original street-racing spots, before the police cracked down. These days it’s more of a Sunday drive, complete with speed bumps. But the road hasn’t lost its nasty curves, or its reputation. Every driver tried to get a little gap in front, to enjoy the drive unencumbered by someone else slowing down for a corner. The highlight of the cruise was the famous Hairpin, an incredibly tight downhill switchback where long trucks get stuck every year. But taken at a quick enough speed, it’s like being on a tarmac WRC stage.
Once the Forks straightens out, it’s a few clicks east to Hwy 10. But when the convoy reached McLaren Rd, some drivers pulled U-turns to drive the Forks again, while others headed north through the rolling hills to continue the drive to Orangeville.
Somewhere along those winding country roads, the entire day turned into something special. The October sunshine lit up the red and gold leaves, the pavement was perfectly dry, and every bend revealed another beautiful stretch of Ontario countryside. We cruised past old bridges with the Bugeye’s boxer engine rumbling through the trees, and I couldn’t help thinking of Lightning McQueen taking Sally Carrera for a drive in ‘Cars’. No racetrack, no checkered flag, just an incredible stretch of road and the perfect autumn day to enjoy it. For my money, it was the best event of the season.
The second-last stop was a Shell gas station with a Tim’s in the back. After hours of driving, with hard acceleration through the forested areas just to hear the boxer engine echo, tanks had run dry. Plenty of drivers made pit stops for caffeine, nicotine and gasoline. Some carried on with the Elusive crew to the final destination at Angel’s Diner.
But some of us just had to turn back and do the whole route over again, trying to live the experience a second time before the day ended and the season changed. There would be plenty of cold, grey Sundays ahead, with these beautiful back roads buried under snow and salt. But on this particular Sunday, with the sun shining and the autumn colours blazing, there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
Sometimes the best part of a road trip isn’t reaching the destination. It’s finding a road so good that you turn around and drive it all over again.
~ by Chris Demaras