All photographs via Jay Kana.

I was born on March 12th, 1978, and for nearly 7 years, I was an only child. My formative years were steeped in independence. By the time my younger siblings came along, the pattern was set. I was a loner in a large family. It may not be rare, but we all know the look in another introvert's eyes when we see it. That independence, at times to a fault, carried me through the bulk of my life.Getting my driver's license at 16 gained my freedom from public transit and asking others for rides. I’ve racked up over 1 million kilometres across hundreds of cars. 

I once would have told you I could only imagine roads continuing to unfurl beneath my tires in this solitary way forever.

I’ve been an entrepreneur for much of my career; the unlimited potential it brings is similar to being behind the wheel, of anything. I’ve filmed and edited over 500 professional car reviews, as writer, host and producer. Long drives by myself are therapeutic, relaxing and reflective; I’ve done on average two a week since 1994. Notice a trend?
Things changed in January of 2022 when I gained a co-host. As an already established reviewer of considerable talent, her strengths complimented mine. My independence hopped in the back seat; the two of us began making better work.

Our system is simple: we split on-camera driving time to maintain our individual thoughts and opinions. She alone bears my terrible puns. I do the filming and editing, the lifelong creative in me still tuning my skills.

In August, we were in New Brunswick for a travel project which included driving on the famed Fundy Trail Parkway. With two location scouting laps on the drive sheet, we were on the road early - all 30 or so kilometres of it - so I could establish the most photogenic spots, stops and scenery that would best reflect the experience. 

She drove from beginning to end. She drove from end to beginning.  My eyes scanned every inch possible between the silent forest to the north and murmuring Bay of Fundy to the south, divided by the gentlest curves. Two slow laps of one of the most beautiful places in the country.My notes were made in my head and on my phone. Through our unwritten agreement, driving duties would be split the following day - filming day.
The GoPro was out, the drone was charged, my Canon 6D had 64 gigs of space pleading to be filled with Canada’s underrated utopia. This is clearly the best part of any performance, no matter if you’re the creator of the performer.  I glanced at her mischievous smile, sunglasses reflecting the brilliant sunshine. She grinned at me from the driver’s seat. 

The cascading first curves of the parkway are easy to be infatuated by, the Bay of Fundy reveals itself immediately,  the neighbouring forest standing guard. First twist, second twist, third turn, fourth sweeping bank, fifth supple bend, sixth shallow arc; all revealing that famed landscape as I used every modern device I had to capture a beauty that has been there forever.A quarter of the way in, she asked if I wanted to drive; I politely declined. Part of it was knowing how much joy she gets from driving. The rest of it was my ever-growing appreciation for this relatively short yet enchanting piece of Canada. When you’re always the driver, you often forget just how much the passenger is able to take in.

The bends kept coming and with every inch she drove, the stronger my appreciation and affection became for the route. For someone so fiercely independent and the only person who loves driving more than the person currently doing so, the passenger seat became my throne. Midway through after a brief lunch stop, we crossed a suspension bridge to show each other how rusty we were at skipping rocks in the Big Salmon River.Back at the car, she hesitated before the driver’s door. Same answer. This passenger stuff was appealing to me. 

The hairpin turn with the Bay of Fundy calmly watching from below as the apex, the steep rock faces, the ascending and descending S-turns were, strangely both now and at the time, more enjoyable for someone who could take them all in as they revealed themselves as opposed to the one who had to keep her concentration on the precarious road that was delivering that experience.

At midpoint, I switched up the setup to capture drone video and photography of her driving this majestic road. She asked once more if I wanted a hand at the wheel, and we both knew we weren’t going to mess with the current magic.

Near the end of the parkway, we made our way down to the beach to watch where the river met the Bay in a gentle tussle of tides. While it was a moment of serenity being this close to the water, I was irrationally impatient to return to my leather perch.

As she handled the final few kilometres of driving, no part of me regretted my decision to decline driving duties. Not then and not now.  My usually indestructible independence had taken a back…err, passenger seat for the first time. 

There was no anxiety of being a passenger, no “fear of missing out” feelings; no feeling of being pushed aside.  For the first time in 340 months of being a driver, I embraced being an observer.For the thousands of Canadian roads I’ve driven on coast to coast, from the $10,000 cars to the $250,000 cars, the Fundy Trail Parkway is now one of the top five roads I’ve ever been on.

It’s also the only one I’ve never driven.