Highway man

“I fly a starship
Across the Universe divide
And when I reach the other side
I’ll find a place to rest my spirit if I can
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain
But I will remain
And I’ll be back again, and again…”

Not many of us can say we have travelled multiple millions of kilometres in our lifetime. Making the road our home. Meeting new people and sharing stories along the way. Building memories that last a lifetime. All while discovering new cities, towns and hidden treasures. But on Friday, The Times lost a member of its family who did exactly that. Leo Howitt passed away at the age of 88.

Although Leo was double vaccinated, he contracted COVID-19 on May 15 and fell quite ill. He was in the hospital on a nebulizer—a device that sprays a vapour into the lungs—for a little more than a week. But for those that know Leo—and for those that don’t—his determination, strong will and stubborn personality led to a recovery. COVID wouldn’t defeat him. At least not in that moment. Unfortunately, other health issues along with the long-term damage from COVID were too much for him to overcome.

Leo had a long career as a transport driver. He stepped behind the wheel of his first rig at the age of 14. He was tasked with pulling logs out of the forest. When he was 16, he stopped at a gas station to fuel up. He told the attendant that maybe it was time he got a licence. The attendant responded “Maybe it is time. You’ve been fuelling up here for more than two years.”

He drove in western and northern Canada, mostly because, according to him, he “couldn’t stand driving in the States.” Every week I would hear a new story, or sometimes the same ones, about his journeys. How he could slam through the gears, or back up his truck into the tightest of spaces. I fondly remember him explaining that some days it was “so damn cold” out west, that the diesel fuel in his tanks would turn into gel. His fingertips would become numb on the steering wheel of his rig. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to live there. “There’s nothing but cold weather and flat fields as far as you can see” he would exclaim.

After hanging up his keys to spend more time with his family, Leo started delivering for The Times. At that time, the paper was printed at the now defunct Shield Media in Belleville. The files would be sent to Belleville around 5 p.m. each Tuesday evening. Leo would pick neatly stacked bundles of papers up around 11 p.m. and commence his journey of the County the next morning. Now for those that aren’t aware, or have never really thought about it, the County is a large area. Starting in Wellington, Leo would weave through Bloomfield and Picton, the southern portions of the County including Cressy and Prinyer’s Cove. Then back up to Demorestville and Rossmore. A quick trip across the bridge to Belleville and Trenton and back through Carrying Place would land him back at the office mid-afternoon each Wednesday. Roughly 150 kilometres each week, and over 100 stops. From experience, a job not for the faint of heart.

Leo likely could have been done much earlier. But a big part of his journey was visiting with readers and store owners along the way. This wasn’t so much a job for Leo, as a pastime. He loved chatting with those who would listen, and those who might not have wanted to, but did anyway. He established a large group who expected to see his smiling face each week.

Leo was a man of schedule. And truly the face of The Times. Folks expected to see him at a certain time each week. But sometimes, things were out of his control. A production error could have caused files to be delayed. Or a backup or breakdown at the printer could mean the paper wasn’t printed on time. The next day, if Leo wasn’t at his scheduled stops at the regular time, the calls would start pouring in. “Where is Leo?” “Is everything okay?” “I hope you haven’t replaced him.” A testament to how friendly a man he was.

After the printer in Belleville closed, The Times started being printed at McLaren Press in Bracebridge—a near 600-kilometre round trip, which added six or more hours onto his trip each week. I am not sure what it is, but in the winter, there seems to be a severe weather event each Tuesday night. But Leo had seen it all in his days. Nothing worried him. It could be a complete whiteout and he and his trusty Volkswagen would be on the porch the next day at the same time. If asked how his trip was, he would say that he kept it between the ditches, and noted that the weather seemed to always get worse when he crossed the bridge back into the County.

Printers are hard to come across this day and age. So after The Times ceased being printed in Bracebridge, it had a brief run and Brantford, and then to its current supplier, in Mississauga. Leo never complained about the switch. Each location was a new adventure. A new list of stories he could tell.

As Leo reached the age of 86, the job of delivering was starting to wear on him. It wasn’t his spirit as much as a shoulder injury, that would become agitated from lugging the bundles in and out of the car. So, after more than 15 years of being the lone ranger, his son-in-law, Kim, started splitting the trips with him, until Leo stepped back completely. In his later years, Leo could often be seen around town, in his recognizable leather bomber jacket and Tilley hat walking his small dog. I would never turn down an opportunity to cross the street to chat and catch up. To hear the same stories I had heard a hundred times. I’ll miss Leo, and his stories.

Rest easy, my friend.

corey@wellingtontimes.ca