My Beatiful Pink Renault Twingo

Oooooh La La. I was in France but a few weeks when I realized that I was not exactly the back packing train riding type. I would often times overload my backpack with food as I was paranoid at the though of having to actually stop at a French restaurant. The additional cargo weighed me down even further making walking and hiking from my small little flat to the various train stations a seemingly impossible task. Impossible as seen through my eyes anyway. So...I was going to require some mode of transportation of my own.

I went first to a small farm house advertising what looked like a kind of scooter. It was sort of like a Vespa but actually had bicycle type petals include, im supposing for thin folk or overly ambitious chubbies. I've never really been the overly ambitious type and so when I learned that you actually had to pedal the hybrid vehicle from time to time, I thanked them kindly, finished eating the baguette I think they were offing me, and waddled on my merry way.

My French was still limited to basic 'hello's', 'high there's', 'good bye's' and 'une Big Mac menu s'il vous plaît, sans cornichon avec frites et une coka light'...you know...the very basics. Thanks to this basic understanding of the French language I was able to find what would become my new car.

I was sitting there at McDo's (what the French call McDonald's) just finishing up my Big Mac when I spotted an older Arab man placing a sign reading "a vendre" (for sale) on a...well...less than fortunate looking car that somewhat resembled the business end of a tube of pink lip stick from any MAC counter. I ran out (who am I kidding), I walked out in a mad waddle until I managed to get his attention which face it...wasn't hard. After all, I am...me. Much like Lewis & Clark did when negotiating with the Native Americans I skillfully utilized a combination of broken French phrases, my own version of sign language, and a very elaborate game of charades to find out how much he wanted for the car. 1500 euros. Hmmmm, was 1500 euros a good price for a 1994 pink Renault Twingo. Honestly I had no clue but I actually fit in the car. I guess I should say I mostly fit. I kind of looked like a rogue muffin popping out of it's tin and trying to make a break for it.

I had the money so I grabbed his hand and shook it feverishly while i said Oui Oui Oui! ca voiture pour moi! (this car for me) He gave me that scared yet exhausted look that most French people give me and said d'accord. The nice Arab man then handed me his goat that was on a leash and pointed at his house and made an elaborate charade motion of a man writing on papers. While he was gone i talk to d'accord the goat. I wasn't sure if d'accord meant goat or if that was in fact the goats name.

He returned after some moments with two sets of keys and a lavender folder full of paperwork. I gave him the money and he showed me about 6 areas when i needed to sign. He then continued to ramble on for about 10 minutes in French of course before he reach inside my new Twingo, turned the ignition, opened the door for me so i could hop on in. I said good bye to Ahmood (his name) and to d'accord, shut the door, looked down and thought....shit....I have no idea how to drive a stick. I knew how to drive one in theory but not in practice. I game myself a firm pep talk and after only stalling 6 times I was able to get her into 2nd gear and drove home. I drove and I drove and I drove, as home was 75km away and i wasn't confident enough to go higher than 2nd gear. I finally made it home and was so so so proud of my 1994 pink Renault Twingo.

Oh! I later learn that d'accord means Okay.