LIES IN THE REPRISE

Liesbeth is now enjoying an incredibly well-deserved vacation, but since you probably can't go too long without her, we present one of her best posts. It's just like her pieces are with episodes of Sex and the City: you can never get enough of them.

It's Friday morning at 10:00 AM when Jet and I, full of good spirits, step into our borrowed manual car on our way to Paris for two days of fashion week. I had already told Jet beforehand that I'm not really a hero on the road. Or at least, on the road in a manual car. It has even gotten to the point where I haven't driven a manual car in over 5 years because I simply refuse to. You can send me off in an automatic without any problem, but just the thought of shifting makes my stomach turn, so I've been making excuses for the past few years and twisting myself into all sorts of shapes just to avoid shifting. Why I decided to do it this weekend is a big mystery to me now in hindsight.

Because what happened? When we drove off, everything was fine. Jet at the wheel (minor detail that the engine stalled a couple of times at the beginning, but so be it), me next to her, blasting 90s music and we zoomed down the road. After an hour and a half, we switched roles. Amid loud cheering and screaming, mostly from me, I took my place behind the wheel and, with some effort, managed to get the car in reverse and, with quite a bit of jerking, shifted from 1 to 2 to 3 to 4 to 5 – and then everything was fine, because you don't have to shift anymore, so straight ahead we go.

Until we get near the périphérique, the ring road of Paris. That périphérique is actually a gigantic junction with a thousand tunnels, exits, and other scary stuff, and of course, we ended up in an immortal traffic jam.

A traffic jam in a tunnel. Such a long dark tunnel where you can't see the end.

I don't like tunnels. And I especially don't like being stuck in traffic IN a tunnel, because then you have to shift IN a tunnel IN a traffic jam. Look, the problem isn't shifting from 1 to 2 and higher, the problem is going from neutral to 1. From standing still to driving. Letting the clutch up and then just in time giving enough gas, I just can't do it. The result was that I was growling and jolting through that tunnel, always just barely not crashing into the car in front and always just barely not stalling the engine. Those who are not familiar with car anxiety will never understand this, but I became so terribly scared that I ended up in a total panic attack.

“JET I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE I DON'T WANT THIS.”

“Lies stay calm, you can do it, really it will be fine. Just keep a little distance and make sure you keep rolling. Just keep rolling.”

“NO NO NO IT'S NOT WORKING THE ENGINE IS GOING TO STALL IT'S ALL GOING WRONG.”

“No no just keep rolling. Take it easy. It's going fine.”
“I'M GOING TO GET OUT. OR TAKE OFF ALL MY CLOTHES. I'M SO HOT.”

“Just keep rolling, nicely done, we're almost at the exit and then I'll take over.”

“A WINDOW HAS TO BE OPEN I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE I WANT OUT I'M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN.”

“Lies, opening a window in a tunnel is not such a good idea” – “I DON'T CARE I CAN'T BREATHE ANYMORE I'M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN.”

And it just kept going like that. With trembling hands and legs and tears almost bursting from my head, I sputtered and growled towards the exit. Jet later said she was mostly afraid I would actually get out of the car and start walking in the middle of the highway, a scenario that indeed often crossed my mind.

As mentioned: Jet would take over the wheel. After two left turns and one right, we were actually almost at the hotel, but I refused to drive another meter and besides, we had to park and I definitely wasn't going to do that. So Jet at the wheel.And then it happens; we enter a road, see that we're going the wrong way, decide to make a U-turn, and then Jet can't get the car in reverse anymore. The engine stalls, again and again and again, and then all the fuses blow for Jet too and she says: “LIES, IT'S NOT WORKING.” Meanwhile, a city bus comes driving up on the left, we see on the right that there is now a huge line of cars honking waiting for us, and all that pressure and stimuli work against Jet, she can do nothing but sit frozen in that car.

And then out of nowhere, a man comes running who shouts that Jet needs to get out, which she does, and suddenly I'm left with a complete stranger Frenchman in the car who helps us get back on track. It was really too crazy. Jet gets back behind the wheel and trembling and shaking with fear, we throw the car somewhere into a parking spot, smoke 800 cigarettes, and then crash onto the hotel bar and order wine for €15, “because we deserve it.” Later it turned out that we didn't even need to take that fucking road because we did the switch between me and Jet RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE HOTEL ENTRANCE. Now I ask you.

Then follow two wonderful days in Paris, but every time we think about the return trip, the nerves kick in again. Jet has to drive out of the city because the thought of that traffic jam drives me crazy. How that return trip went, I will tell you tomorrow, but I will already reveal that it took us about 12 hours, Jet became a victim of a panic attack, we almost caused multiple accidents, and that we both will never ever EVER drive a manual car again.