We had given ourselves about a week to drive to Barcelona and back. To avoid the toll roads, we chose the Route National; where you can see so much more beauty and where there is still the feeling of being on the road. Barcelona was reached in 2.5 days. One and a half day later we left again. We had met up with friends, walked through the cozy little alleys and that’s all we needed to do.
This is where the adventure starts.
Due to lack of time we decided to hit the péage anyway. Of course we knew: French people can’t drive. But coming from Spain to France it was more obvious than coming from Belgium to France. There are a few things you notice to recognize a French man behind the wheel: he will be stepping on his breaks when he doesn’t need to, hits full gas when he really can’t do so and they will always pass you. Frenchmen just aren’t capable of driving behind another car for too long. They have to pass it! With our open roof and enjoying the sun, we maneuvered ourselves through this idiotic behavior on the freeway. Heading for Paris and going!
Only a couple of hours on the road we noticed a technical failure in our lovely car. Result: the useful open roof isn’t closing anymore. And then the fun just sort of stops. Goodbye Paris and hello lonesome, long, cold hours on the freeway in a convertible. Facing The Netherlands and the rain. The closer we got to the border, the harder we stepped on the gas. Even if it wasn’t always wise. Slowing down for the mist, but still passing everyone. The first drops of rain quickly transformed into serious down pouring and all we wanted was to be home.
The French spirit in ourselves broke loose and the idiotic behavior didn’t seem so idiotic anymore. We couldn’t linger behind those other cars for too long. We had to pass them! Pass them!