I admit I’ve been a bit of a diva in France – with EB, my personal chauffeur, I’ve been kicking back and enjoying the journey.
But today I decided the time had come. When in France, do what the French do – and I don’t mean buy a baguette (that’s a story for another day…).
So I told EB to pull over, and I jumped into the driver’s seat.
The left-side thing – seat, clutch, gears and stuff – was okay. It was judging the pesky road edge that did me in. After a couple of times of hitting the gravel, EB was almost under the dashboard (not hiding, but cracking up with laughter).
Then there were those tight turns between stone walls in little villages. Oh god.
I stuck at it and thought I was pretty relaxed really. I mean, I’ve been speaking French… I can do anything, right?
But when my left arm went numb, I realised I wasn’t quite as chilled as I thought. Let’s just say, I have renewed respect for EB’s ability to jump in the car and drive us out of Paris…
A while later, I was pretty happy to slide back into the passenger’s seat.
There’s something about watching the world go by… especially when the feeling comes back in your arm.