Wednesday, August 25, 2010


Having arrived in Nancy by train, we found Peter and Jo waiting with a cloudy-blue-sky Citroen Dyane, ready to transport us back in style to their boat in Lagarde. All our Frenchy dreams had come true.

Now, the romance of the Dyane lies much more in the name than in the driving, just as the fun lies much more in the driving than in the name; so, I will only talk of the driving.

Boasting all the structural integrity of a fresh ginger snap, and laying similar claims with regard to a top speed, riding in the Dyane reminded me of banjo music and alcohol (which, incidentally, are two things the user-manual prescribes in order to drive the car effectively).

As you can see, its interior was comically bare, testifying to an age of austerity that most other manufacturers managed to circumvent, but that France evidently embraced with all the gusto of a fat kid left alone with mini-frankfurters. Yes, France, you have truly produced une automobile unique!

Despite all this, with Peter's deft guidance, this sweet union of tractor and tin foil did manage to get us back to Lagarde in one piece. Kudos to you, Dyane — perhaps I have been unfair.

1 comment:

Sweet Olive Press | Helen said...

Bonjour, bare-bones automobile! Wow.