My French Rental Car

My Blue Renault Captur Rental

My blue rental car greets  me  with  congratulatory music upon entering.  At home, I drive a 1997 Volvo which feels as comfortable as an old sweater.  I study the  rental car's manual and hope for the best.   A thick rectangular key card opens the doors.  To start the engine, step hard on the brake and push the stop/start button.  The parking brake light goes off, and off you go! Big Blue does drive like a dream, but I wish it were the size of a Smart Car on narrow French roads and in parking spaces. 

 

Yesterday, Big Blue and moi went to the big Saturday market in Villereal. Blanche my GPS (I do clearly like to name inanimate objects) advised me to go down narrow picturesque streets to reach my destination. Holding my breath, Big Blue and moi went round in circles until we miraculously squeezed into a parking space. Ouf. I walked quickly to Maggie's Cafe to meet my friend. After coffee, I soon realized I was in trouble. Where had I parked? In my haste, I did not take enough time to focus on the street names. Oy. I felt lost. I now needed Blanche to help me find Big Blue. Finally, I remembered passing a bakery on the way to the center of the market. But where was it? In desperation, I stopped at a vendor's prune stand to ask about the nearest bakery. Her directions made sense, and I soon found Big Blue. Whew!