An Englishman’s first Canadian winter
Driving.ca’s Gent relied on Monty the Chev
I’ll say this quietly for fear that Mother Nature will hear me from her creaking Muskoka chair, but after five gruelling months — and a recent blast of icy rain — winter, finally, seems to be coming to an end in Ontario. And for this native Englishman, it can’t come soon enough.
This year’s sub-zero onslaught, after all, was my first experience of a Canadian cold spell, one that a six-year turn at the opposite end of the thermometer in Dubai hasn’t exactly prepared me for. Just ask the Starbucks barista who recently offered me a consoling tilt of the head one fiendishly cold morning as I informed her, from the safe confines of my Moose Knuckles parka and woolliest of sweaters, that a cardboard sleeve for my Holiday Blend “probably wouldn’t be necessary.”
Still, as the thermal socks begin, one by one, to disappear into the back of the cupboard — all while Mother Nature’s back is turned — I can’t help but wonder how this would have gone without the aid of my first-ever Canadian winter beater, a 2004 Chevrolet Monte Carlo.
Affectionately referred to as ‘Monty’ by my wife and her siblings — each of whom has contributed robustly over the years to the quartermillion klicks on the clock — GM’s sixth-generation LS coupe was not, I’ll admit, my first choice for a winter car. Sure, under that whopping great and only slightly crumpled bonnet — sorry, hood — lies a 3.4-litre V6, one that, rumour has it, can produce 180 horsepower and 205 pound-feet of torque, though I’ve rarely seen much tangible proof of that.
Reining in a 1,515-kg vehicle on frozen roads using only front-wheel drive didn’t exactly appeal either, and thanks to an electrical glitch that fried most of the circuitry back in 2013, the engine, oil, water temperature, and ABS warning lights remain on. Quite how the Monte Carlo has continued its daily duties with, apparently, a completely empty fuel tank and permanently ‘disabled’ traction control remains a head-scratcher to this day.
Perhaps most worrying, though, was a lack of winter tires, ‘Monty’ — look, just go with it — having chewed through to the canvas of his last set two years ago. Today, with six months of hindsight now safely stowed beneath my belt, it’s an enormous red flag. But back in October, as an Englishman, an occasionally professional motoring journalist and graduate of the “it’s probably all right” school of ambitious thinking, what could possibly go wrong?
Mercifully, nothing, though certainly not for want of trying. I’m not sure if you’ve ever found yourself sliding on sheet ice toward a fire hydrant whilst furiously pumping the brake pedal and repeatedly requesting that 18.3-inch turning radius to kick in, but it’s not the most fun I’ve ever had.
Nor, in fairness, were the first few months the smoothest of transition from ‘one careful owner’ to another for Monty. Like any well-weathered sheepdog, he’s astutely loyal to his adoptive family, but can leave wet marks on the ground, covets warmth and has a tendency to growl at me when I try to move him.
Even my cynicism, though, receives a hearty kick in the ribs when we consider Monty’s positive tropes, and — stop snickering — that includes pedigree. Did you know, for instance, that between 1971 and 2007, Chevy’s Monte Carlo won 396 races and 16 championships in NASCAR’s top tier in the hands of such luminaries as Jimmie Johnson, Jeff Gordon, and the late great Dale Earnhardt? I also have it on good authority that all of those races were won between December and February, though do feel free to correct me if you’re just that kind of killjoy.
Don’t let the name fool you either: Like a well-seared rump steak, Monty is a tough old sod, having tackled flatpacks and tool boxes on the back seat, countless work boots, ill-placed crampons and multiple family dogs, all with aplomb and with only the occasional chewed seat cushion to show for it. Hey, military-grey velour isn’t to everyone’s tastes.
We must also consider practicality, of which the Monte Carlo has lashings. Don’t let that ‘humped’ trunk lid fool you. Underneath it lies 524 L of luggage space, put to ample use a few years back when my wife — with brother, mother, and all required luggage — drove from Toronto to Vancouver in one, non-stop 42-hour drive, an odyssey she still recounts at dinner parties, usually from the fetal position.
The ride, meanwhile, is almost blissfully comfortable on the highway, through town, or indeed pretty much anywhere that ‘Knight’ Chevrolet emblem on the nose isn’t pointing at a fire hydrant. And that the 1,515-kg Monty can somehow still return 7.3 L/100 km fuel efficiency from a 77-L tank continues to stymie Einstein’s basic principles of physics.
But even so, having survived ice and salt on the driveway every morning, and temperatures that make my head both spin and fearful of hypothermia, I can’t help but wonder what this might have been like without my first winter beater. Yes, this particular 2004 Monte Carlo has its issues, not helped by circumnavigating the equivalent of the globe almost 11 times and having all the dynamic sensibilities of a commuter ferry. But even now, 14 years into its tenure, the LS coupe is happy to just get on with the daily commute. And all this without snowshoes.
Cheers, Monty.