A Chevy Avalanche sits along the road north of Lebel-Sur-Quevillon in French Quebec. The forests have disappeared, wide open spaces sprawl into a marshy green and low trees.
A large man waves his arms by the Chevy. My car squeaks along and shudders as I begin easing onto the brakes. I end up passing him but see him waving his arms over his head desperately from the middle of the road in my rearview mirror.
I turn around and turn my window down one stiff crank at a time. He walks up to my car and I’m a little surprised when my English lands.
“Are you alright?”
“Uh, yeah, do you have a smoke?” he replies.