It’s certainly controversial. Community members may call it noisy, disruptive to fellow motorists, and unsafe at times, but if you think back to your teenage years, you’ve probably done it once or twice, right?
Cruising — love it or hate it — is a long-standing Winkler tradition.
What is cruising?
For anyone who is new to town or has perhaps pushed the practice out of their memory, the act of cruising tends to occur on weekend evenings in Winkler. As the sun sets, young people from not only the immediate area, but also all over the Pembina Valley (especially Morden and Altona) take to their cars and then to the streets. What follows next is simple in concept but complex in social implications. The green motorists drive through the main “strip” of Winkler, and then again, and then again.
The classic route has been passed down for generations.
While the narrative that surrounds cruising tends to be negative (and all too often, understandably so), it’s undeniable that the tradition has also generated the fond memories and good stories that punctuate what it means to be a rural youth from Winkler and the Pembina Valley.
Boomboxes and cassette players
Marilyn Hildebrand, a life-long Winkler resident who did her fair share of cruising when she was younger, says that she had her first experience with it in about 1985. She says gas was about 38 cents a litre.
Even before this time, she says she looked forward to being able to hit Main Street as a girl.
"I had an older brother, and he did the cruising thing . . . . Even if he dropped me off at my friend’s house, sometimes he would take Main Street and it was car after car,” she says. “He would tell me some little tidbits and stories of cruising and I could hardly wait. I was like, ‘I have to get my driver’s.’”
By the time she got her license, Hildebrand knew the route well, and she tackled it in her 1969 Ford Galaxy (“no air-conditioning,” she says). At the time, Main Street was a two-lane road, so cruisers would go north along the street and loop in what was the A&W parking lot (where Tim Horton’s is today).
“Then we would head south, and the stoplight wasn't even at the corner by the Access Credit Union. That was still Stop and Go, or Speedy Mart, or whatever it was called at that time. We would turn left because it was a 4-way stop, . . . and then go around the back of the Gladstone Mall. That wasn't a one-way at the time . . . . Then we would head on to South Railway and then back on to Main Street and [back around].”
For anyone from a different generation of cruisers, although the businesses along the way have changed, the route will sound familiar — it’s largely the same today. Cruisers today, though, usually have impressive stereo systems and not a battery-powered boombox as Hildebrand had in her car.
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As many young people do, Hildebrand and her friends used the activity to meet new people.
“Back then people were different. We would kind of point to people that we wanted to meet and then we would stop on a parking lot somewhere and chat with them,” she says, adding that if the connection wasn’t quite right, they would simply make an excuse to leave and then restart the process. “Everybody was doing it . . . . Chances were that you knew at least half of [the cruisers] and the other half you kind of wanted to get to know.”
Another important part of the ritual was music. Hildebrand says that Journey, Belinda Carlisle, and White Snake permeated the cars. She also says that when her friend got a new car with a cutting-edge cassette player, her Galaxy couldn’t compete.
A love story set on pavement
For Hildebrand, this setting of cruising through Winkler on a regular Sunday in the 80s resulted in a love story to last.
“My dad always said, ‘Marilyn, when it's 30° outside you can't run your car, . . . so every once in a while, we'd need a break and, of course, it was a day before Tim Horton’s or . . . the movie theatre, so the McDonald's was there, and we had to take breaks [there],” she says. “My dear husband now was also cruising that day and happened to take a break at the same time, and we met up at the McDonald's parking lot.”
Hildebrand says that this became a theme as the pair began to spend more time together.
“It was kind of funny because that ended up being a lot of our dates. There really wasn't a lot to do in town at that time,” she says. “We always said that we met in the McDonald's parking lot, but it was due to the cruising because if I wasn't cruising, I wouldn't have gone [there].”
‘I don't think I would do something like that at an older age, but it was fun’
For Wendi Dyck of Morden, cruising in Winkler did not result in a love connection, but she did get some free tickets to a concert.
“When I was 17, we were cruising, and I was in a car with the girls, and we exchanged numbers on a piece of paper with [some] guys,” she says. “I got a call asking if I wanted to go to a Blink-182 concert, and my parents were on vacation, . . . so I knew I could get away it. I went with this group of guys that I had never met before to this concert.”
Dyck says that afterwards, she reflected on how dangerous the situation could have been, even though it all turned out well.
“They ended up being just the nicest guys and they picked up, I think it was, their sisters or their cousins,” she says. “It was the only time I think we ever hung out. It was an experience. I don't think I would do something like that at an older age, but it was fun.”
I feel like all of us kind of make fun of cruising, but then we've all done it. Even telling [my] story, it's like, do I want to actually admit it? But it's one of those things that is just a [rite of passage] -Wendi Dyck
Dyck says that when she talked about cruising with her coworkers, even people in their 60s and 70s had their own stories of doing it.
“It's just interesting to see that it's never stopped,” she says. “It's still continuing that young people are out cruising, or people with their fancy cars.”
Donna Johansen says that cruising was a family affair for her. Back in the day, she cruised in Winkler with her father and three siblings when the group came to Winkler to get the rejected chips from the Old Dutch potato chip factory.
While Johansen herself didn’t cruise beyond this, she met plenty of cruisers on Saturday evenings. Because she grew up on a farm eight miles from town, her special evenings in town were Saturdays, on which she began the night with a film and ended it meeting people on the streets.
“It was always an Elvis movie,” she says. “In our teen years, you'd walk home from the movie — one grandma lived on 11th, one grandma lived on 7th — and here's all these cute young guys from Morden, cruising the streets, and my sisters and I are ogling them all. We didn’t know anybody, but we had fun. That was our Saturday night to town.”
When asked if she met anyone special, she said simply, “No.”
A new age of cruising
As for the happy pair of Marilyn and Howie Hildebrand, over the years, because of Howie’s interest in cars and hot rods, they have continued to go out for their Sunday drives. Over three decades later, things are a bit different.
"When it was just the two lanes [on Main Street], you would see everybody passing and you'd see them waving and now, [with the four-lane road,] it’s busy,” she says. “The small-town atmosphere is maybe not the same.”
Hildebrand says that cars on Main Street also seem louder than they were. She and Howie notice this on the summer evenings they spend enjoying ice cream on Charley B’s patio. Even so, Hildebrand is slow to pass judgement.
“Maybe I'm just getting too old,” she laughs. “Maybe that's the problem.”
Ultimately, Hildebrand is on the fence. While fuel is expensive these days and there are some concerns about the areas cruisers in Winkler frequent, in some ways, as long as everyone is safe, it’s refreshing to her.
“I almost feel, because of the way technology has gone, that it's kind of neat to see people actually out and perhaps meeting people this way instead of just being behind a tablet or whatever,” she says. “Howie and I still cruise, maybe not Main Street as much, but we still go for Sunday drives.”
The Hildebrands recently celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary.
“I started cruising in ‘85, so ‘87 is when I met him, and the rest is history,” she says. “It was a two-year journey. Lots of miles to find him.”
While no one would blame community members who are occasionally discontented with the cruisers in Winkler (there are many reasons to be, after all), there is also something about it that is perhaps wholesome, timeless.
For generations, the practice has been the stage for young people in the area to connect with contemporaries and enjoy the excitement of unexpected bonds. To some, it seems reasonable, within (speed) limits.
~With files from Connie Bailey and Robyn Wiebe~