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About Quebec City

So, escort, man, it’s like—it’s scrappy, it’s real! Started back in ‘68, Ford’s lil’ European baby, zippy as heck. Little known fact: the Mark I Escort won rally races—like, legit tore up dirt tracks! Makes me happy thinkin’ bout some dude in a helmet, smokin’ tires, livin’ his best life. I’d be that dude, screamin’, “Yeah, baby, let’s go!”—but nah, my Escort’s more… chill. Rusty doors, squeaky brakes—character, ya know? Reminds me of that line, “Love is the only truth”—this car’s truth is it’s a fighter!

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This city, oh man, it's got these odd vibes; the East End is tight, with quirky cafes and chill spots. I usually sit on a bench in Central Park (yeah, right in the heart!) and watch people, soaking in energy. Rivers and creeks? Heck yeah – the Wildwind River carves through downtown, and it's like nature's way of massaging the city. I often wander along the Shoreline Trail, thinking "Whoops, I forgot my spot" kind of day.

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