Post by Ella
We are now in the old city of Carcassonne , staying in a house within the ramparts. I am working on a glass of red from Carsac. A gift from our host. So I’m relaxed…now.
But earlier…. Driving from Avignon to NImes, well, first of all, we had a few misfires getting out of Avignon. You woulda thought the world was ending the way Grubb was punching the steering wheel. Chill dude. This town has so many roundabouts we could loop around all day long until we got it right.
Then it was all N100 which is not a toll road so we had roundabouts every 2 or 3 km. Mostly we went in and out the other side. Ms Google Nav (let me just call her Navi for short) was excellent at those. “In 200 meters, at the roundabout, take the second exit to stay on N100”.
Aside: Roundabouts are car rodeos. Or maybe car derbies. Always yield to any car already in the circle. But you don’t know if they are about to exit before your entrance because no one signals. So hesitate or punch it. Your choice. Most roundabouts were wide enough for two unmarked lanes which meant jockeying for position to get out when your exit came. Cutting in front of or whipping behind the car next to you…think fast…it’s all quick. Eventually we got to be jocks at jockeying. Maybe after the 30th or so roundabout.
Finally on approach to NImes, traffic slowed to nothing, bus lanes appeared and disappeared, lanes merged unexpectedly but we made it to a parking garage. Words cannot describe the claustrophobic feel of driving down a narrow, spiral ramp (multicolored walls from cars scraping the sides). And trying to inch into a parking slot hemmed in on either side.
All this to see something that looked like a mini-Parthenon except there was cement between the pillars. Grubb will talk about this “temple”.
I did have a nice chai latte and a chocolate rice krispee bar – at least that’s what it was called. It did have a nice crunch to it. Grubb had his usual cappuccino and a chocolate roll (kind of like a cinnamon roll only chocolate).
Back on the road, we made it out of NImes alive and finally diverted to the A9, a respectable toll road . No roundabouts. No stoplights. Although stay alert. Speed limits continually change. You zip along at 130km/hr when all of a sudden it’s 90. Then 80. Then 110. And those trucks, lots of ‘em. And it was windy. And Grubb has this one finger on the steering wheel approach that drives me batty. “Please, two hands on the wheel!” There oughta be a country song. “One finger on the wheel, you’re a goner”.
And then there was the little matter of the fuel. Looked like it was getting low. “How we doin’ on fuel?” I’d ask cheerily (with gritted teeth). “It’s fine”. And then, with 75km to go, the fuel gauge inexplicably swoops down. 10 km later, the dreaded “Fuel is low” message comes on. We are out in the middle of a wind farm. No gas here.
I spot the blue rest area sign. Rest areas here often have services. This one had nothing. But then another sign. A rest area sign with the fuel pump icon. 20km ahead. And we are going uphill. Aargh.
Grubb tells me not to look at the fuel gauge because it will only add to my black cloud. Not helping!
20km later, with fumes to spare we pull up to a pump. These two dumb tourists stared at the array of color coded nozzles.
“Insert card” ✔️
“Patience” 🤬
“You can now fill to maximum of 150€” 😫
“Select pump” ✔️
“Select fuel” 🤷🏼♀️
“You can now begin filling” 😃
“Remove your card” beep beep beep ✔️
Nozzle handle firmly inserted into fuel tank. Grubb squeezes the handle. Nothing happens. The display on the pump hasn’t zero’d out from the last purchase. We put the nuzzle back on the pump.
“Print ticket”. Sure, why not. The receipt shows we have purchased 0.00€ of fuel.
We start all over again. Takes two more tries when suddenly the pump finally zeros out the last person’s purchase and the fuel starts flowing.
We made it to the Carcassonne airport on time. It’s a tiny airport and the EuropCar rental desk has limited hours. This is where we are turning in our car. Yay.
Now how to get over to the medieval city where we were staying. I’d researched and knew there was airport shuttle but it was timed for flight arrivals and there weren’t any just then or soon. I asked the EuropeCar agent (A handsome, friendly young man) if Uber was available in Carcassonne. He wasn’t sure. He’s from Toulouse, he said, and was just filling in for the day. He had phone numbers for taxis.
Anyway, I tried my Uber app and got lucky. Yes, Uber was available and a driver was 8 minutes away. Dominique appeared in his Tesla and off we went. He was talkative. His English was understandable whereas our French…although Grubb is not bad.
Dominque kept adjusting his map on the big Tesla screen to point out spots of interest. “Hey, eyes on the road and two hands on the wheel!” I wanted to shout. I kept my mouth shut and held on.
We arrived at the northeast entrance to the walled city. Now just an 8 minute walk with luggage over rocky paths and then wet sand walkways. Up stone steps, up the cobblestone hill. We arrive.
I’ve dragged this sorry tale out long enough don’t you think?
Come to Cape Cod for a roundabout driving course. They are the solution to all traffic problems on the Cape. We don’t need no stinkin’ stop lights!
My worst roundabout experience was coming off a red-eye flight to Shannon in Ireland, pre google days. Took multiple spins to get off that thing.
Oh yes, we did experience some of those Cape Cod roundabouts. Wouldnt want to be driving those Irish roundabouts in a haze of jet lag! The great thing is, everybody else is in and out so if you have to go around a few times, no one knows.