Chip trucks

It is my personal opinion that the best word pairings in the English language are “chip truck” and “car ride.”

Put the two together and you have the ultimate excuse to hit the open road and dine in style from recyclable cardboard boxes with plastic forks. Good times.

And now I’m on a roll. Fuelled up, windows down, volume up. Open road. This sounds like the ultimate weekend adventure to me. It’s tradition in fact, as chip trucks were to my childhood what drive-thrus are to my own growing children, who will never appreciate fast food that wasn’t fast.

Back then, your dad had to get out of the car to order the food, and these were the days when parents left their kids in the car, with the doors unlocked and windows down, and just hoped you’d be there when they got back so you’d quit whining about who got the orange pop because your dad got the order wrong. True story. It happened. I survived.

But every spring season, as the snow melts, the flowers bloom and the chip truck owners sweep away the dust from their decks and take the wood covers off their windows, I am filled with a joy I cannot fully express in words. We’re talking Christmas morning joy – you know, back in that time of my life before I bought my own gifts and wrapped them up for the Carpenter, so he could put his name on them and the kids would think daddy was a genius for always knowing exactly what mommy wanted. Fat chance.

It got me thinking that for the Canada 150 celebrations, I should attempt to visit 150 chip trucks from sea to shining sea. Right?

I mean what was the point of giving away my gallbladder if not to test its purpose in the first place? Besides, I never have to squeeze into short-shorts again (a legit benefit of aging we don’t appreciate until we’re there). So, what’s to stop me? Who doesn’t love deep fried potatoes? (Add “deep fried” to the word pair list).

Of course, I only have two-weeks vacation this summer, so I may have bitten off more than I can chew with this concept. Too bad. Next time. Plan B.

Home is where the heart is (insert cholesterol jokes here) and I believe Wellington County boasts some fabulous chip trucks. So my new goal is to create an inventory of these fine dining take-out establishments in every corner of the county and consume a small order of fries from each one before the boards go back on the windows at the end of chip truck season.

I may even create a grading system – you know, to make it a research project. There may be funding available for this, which would certainly free up some time. Bonus points will be awarded to any chip truck that serves gluten-free gravy. Now we’re talking. Dig in. Live large. Stretch denim. Happy Kelly.

This is doable. Now I need to make a music play list for the road trip (see what I did there?).

Done deal. French fries. On it.


Kelly Waterhouse