A friend of my dad's emigrated to Canada in the 1970s and ended up taking a job driving a lorry for a logging company. He likes to tell the story of on his very first trip, somewhere very remote on a seriously long distance drive, he stopped for the night, got out for a walk to stretch his legs and walked around the back of the trailer and and came face to face with a huge bear. So with an abrupt U-turn in his plans, he cancelled his planned evening stroll and got back into the cab and closed the window and locked the doors and drank some whiskey instead.