The Car Saga Continues…

This is the fifth in the series about the pursuit of my dreams. Check out the previous ones here:

https://wordsworthywriting.wordpress.com/2023/08/28/how-it-began-my-journey-to-make-my-dreams-a-reality

It’s Electric!

I slept until 9:30on Saturday, which is unheard of! I’m an ‘up with the sun’ kind of person. It felt good to sleep in a bed for the first time in two days. I got up and took a much needed shower. I’d been wearing the same clothes since Tuesday and it felt good to peel them off and get clean. Feeling completely refreshed, I went to the kitchen where the breakfast was laid out for me. I had a big bowl of tea with milk and a banana. It’s really all I usually have for breakfast even though she had muesli and other fruit available. Then we went for a 5 km walk along the river and through the town. It was quite nice and I found it interesting to see a river at such a low tide that much of the bottom is exposed. At the house we had lunch of stuffed aubergine and wine and cheese and fruit then nap time. After the nap we rode bikes to the Rock in Loc festival happening in town. Tribute bands to Neil Young, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Halliday, and AC/DC performed. 

I’m a people watcher and I love to observe things. One of those things was, while beer, cider, and wine were available and affordable (8 euro for a bottle of wine), not many people were drinking. And, much to my pleasure, not many people were smoking. In fact, for the first time, I have not been overcome with smoke in France. Perhaps though, they should have had a few beverages to loosen up.. The Jerry Lee Lewis tribute band wasn’t bad and put in 100% effort and energy and all the people up front just stood there. I couldn’t help but boogie and one person in front of me wiggled a little. Finally, a young couple behind me to the left started swing dancing and when I turned to watch, I saw two other couples dancing. I was happy to see at least that, as the keyboardist was pouring his heart and soul into his performance and this crowd was a stick in the mud. It was 21:00 and we left before AC/DC came on. Yveline started cooking dinner at 9:30. This is par for the course in France. 

Yveline is a woman I met in 2019 when I was touring Ireland. A petite, almost retired cobbler, maybe 40 kilos soaking wet, she’d ridden her motorcycle over from France to tour Ireland. I thought she was the coolest person I’d ever met. We met in a hostel in the northernmost town in Ireland and went out to a bar together. While there the bartender that I’d briefly encountered while asking for help in a bar in Derry, recognized me and hailed us over. He was with a friend and the four of us talked and drank pints for hours. It was so special to have that connection. TBH, if my favorite country criteria were based solely on the people, Ireland would be number one! The next day Yveline and I went for a hike along the stunning, hilly cliffside. Then she got on her motorcycle and I got in my car and we parted ways. But we stayed in touch through sporadic emails. 

I thought I needed to be in Riberac by Tuesday so Sunday morning Y and I set out to charge the car. In case my card wasn’t working (again!) we could do a cash exchange. So we went to the charging station, pushed the port cover and it wouldn’t open. It’s just a spring-loaded door and it didn’t work. Unbelievable!!!! I hit the unlock button on the car. I started and stopped it. I moved it a few feet forward. I locked and unlocked it. Nothing worked. I made several calls to Sixt. They called VW. After an hour or more, a tow truck driver showed up. He did all the things I did and declared it wouldn’t open. So he loaded it onto the tow truck and took off. Back to Y’s we went. I called Sixt again because they kept sending me texts in French and I wasn’t understanding. They sent a taxi to pick me up and take me to the Brest airport where I could get a new car. I insisted on a GAS car. I got a lovely Peugeot. It was 19:30 before I arrived back at her home. Eight hours. I’d literally lost one day of my life dealing with that f#*$ing car; that’s 24 hours of real-time but two full days of awake time. A sense of relief came over me when I arrived back at her home. At least I could pay for gas with cash since my credit card still was not working. While I was grateful for her patience, inside I was angry that I’d lost so much of my life; time to enjoy her company and explore the area.

Monday morning I left about 8:30. I knew I had about a 7-8 hour drive back and I still had accommodations to sort out. Traffic around Nantes was horrendous. Added about one hour to my trip. Still, I made the 580km trip to Riberac without having to stop for fuel once! What a glorious thing! I pulled up in front of the house that I intended to buy and rang the doorbell. No answer. I peeked at it through the brass post slot. I got excited. I knocked on the door of my 84-year-old, English, next-door neighbor who has been incredibly kind to me during this experience. I finally got to meet her. She’s half Icelandic, tall, and despite her age, sharp as a whip and active. She’s very aware of everything going on. She’s abrupt and while some may take offense to it, it doesn’t phase me. I always enjoy people who get right to the point. Despite the fact that she had 11 of her kids and grandkids in the house, She invited me to stay the night. She had an extra room and I was welcome to it. 

It was sweltering hot when I arrived. A welcome change from the cold, grey, wet north. Even at 18:00 it was hot and, with prompting, I changed into my swimsuit and fell into her cool pool. I’m sure I heard a sizzle as I collided with the water.  I think steam came off my body.  One by one I met almost her entire family who were visiting from England. They were warm and welcoming and there was never an awkward moment. She cooked a wonderful curry dinner with wine aplenty. Afterward, there was cheese, and probably dessert but I didn’t eat it. Then some of us went for a walk to the high point of town to try and observe the super moon but the clouds prevented any chance of seeing it. Grey skies had descended before dinner and wouldn’t let up for seven days. 

Now, one week after I arrived in France, I have had a moment to breathe and I reflect on it all. The truth is that, despite all the adversities, there were amazing people to help me through them. They balanced them out and are the reason I never broke down into sobs. Whoever says the French are rude has never met the French outside of shops and restaurants, where they were probably a reflection of the tourists they served. It was an unforgettable example of human kindness and generosity. A big check for France.