Daniele Somenzi's France

France

I set off with my Fiat 500, the one you have to double-declutch to change gear, and in Switzerland, at Zurich, I enter France. I'm alone and I don't feel like going on the motorway, also because it costs a lot, so, map in hand, I drive along all the main roads. I got a puncture as soon as I entered France — not exactly the best of starts. It starts getting dark, and I follow a lorry ahead of me that keeps me company for at least 4 hours; I never overtake it and I keep it company too. At a certain point he slows down and stops on the right, at which point I'm forced to overtake him, but just in front of him I stop and get out, he gets out and at last we meet, shaking hands; we tell each other our respective destinations and then, reluctantly, we have to part. It will mean that from now on my car radio alone will keep me company.

I notice that in the dark you drive fairly well, and I carry on until I'm really tired of driving. At the start of every little village a sign lights up reading 'rappel' — but what does it mean? I guess either 'attention' or 'slow down'.

A little further on I enter a car park where I then lower the seat of my little car and fall asleep, even though around three in the morning, from the cold, I have to start the engine to warm up, and I do about twenty km; then I stop again, nice and warm, in another car park, but it's dark and you can't see much.

At the first light of morning I get out to stretch my legs and realise there are dozens of lorries around me, and I with the 500 felt very, very small.

Slipping out among the lorries, I set off again, leaving Paris to my left, and carry on all day on this tour de force. At 2 pm I stop in a small village and go into the bar to eat a sandwich; how strange to see people just like us but speaking French.

In the evening I arrive in Dunkirk, where at sunset I'm on the ferry bound for England.

This is the first of about ten times in France. Bye