The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
-by Sherryanne De La Boise
The first time I rented a car in a foreign country was in 2009, at Charles de Gaulle airport. Even though the rental was through an American firm, I had nightmares in the days prior. ‘What if I could not read the road signs?' It had been decades since high school French, a course where I consistently got extremely low grades.
‘What will happen if I get pulled over by the police?' We all have heard horror stories about dealing with law enforcement in foreign lands. ‘Was the economy and convenience of independent travel worth the risk?'
My daughter was skating for Team USA in a competition Rouen, France. The coaches, trainers and team members had gone a few days earlier to adjust to the time change, practice on the ice (all ice has it's quirks), and to check out their competition as they also practiced. A few mommies had gone along as chaperones, and I trusted them.
Having convinced my Sister and Mother to come to the competition, then stay for a few days afterwards, it seemed easier to have a car to get everyone to and from the Paris airport. Afterall Rouen looked like it was only an hours drive from Paris. But, the responsibility was giving me sit-up-in-bed panic attacks.
Mother and I flew from O'Hare to Paris. We were in the back of the plane, where there are two aisles that separate seven seats. She curled up in our assigned two seats, while I stretched out across the three center seats and slept. I felt sorry for the older couple who did not migrate and sat upright the entire eight hours. Her legs were so swollen. We arrived well rested and deflated.
We had packed large suitcases, because we knew we had the luxury of a car trunk, albeit in an economical car. It was a four door Peugeot, standard. Like many of us, I used to drive a standard shift car. Remember the "J" pattern or the "H" layout with the depressed reverse? This had the "H" with an extra up line for reverse, right next to first gear. I thought about how I was going to have to be careful not to leave a stop light in reverse.
The French park in tiny, tiny spaces. There barely is room to open the door and wedge into the car (which may be the real reason why they keep themselves so thin). The driving lanes are also very narrow. We were approaching a curve into the exit gate of the rental parking lot, when I failed to make a tight enough turn. ‘No problem,' I thought. ‘I'll back up and try to curve again.'
Well, I could not get the car into reverse. It seemed like an eternity before another rental car came to the same exit. Jumping out of my rental, I explained – in English – my inability to get the car into reverse. He got into my car, put it into reverse, then drove it forward through the gates. As I thanked him, I asked him how he coaxed it into reverse.
With a naughty glint and a wry smile he said, as he demonstrated, "First, you wrap your fingers around the shaft. Then, you pull the leather up to the head and lift and pull forward to engage reverse."
Afterwards, Mother asked, "What would you have done, if he had driven off with me?"
"I would have gotten in his car and done a better job of making that turn through the exit gates."