paris MAGAZINE

And he was gone. Really gone gone. I stammered a bit that we had of course parked him in another street. All those streets in Le Marais looked alike, didn’t they? The evidence came to light. Always alert friend A. had taken a photo of the street. “Look, it was here. In the Rue des Francs-Bourgeois.” After that, we immediately went to eat at that nice little restaurant La Favorite on the corner.
A weekend road-tripping to Paris with friends. The fun starts on the A2. An old-fashioned bag of candy, small peppers, and cans of diet cola, the playlist put together by E., and before you know it, you’re in the most fun city in the world. Parking went surprisingly smoothly. This was our weekend. But now our car was gone. That meant two things. Towed away or… I didn’t even dare to think about the latter.

Of course, we sought help from that guy from that nice shop and before I knew it, I got a message from the police. “Votre véhicule a été enlevé.” Towed away. I let out a small sigh of relief. I could easily cross this day off, because I had to go to a shady suburb to fish our car from a junkyard. I took a taxi and gave him the address. When he stopped at the Carrée du Louvre, I thought the man was on pills. This was always the location of the Vuitton show. Not where I could embrace my car? The man pointed to the parking garage. Descend to the third floor and everything would be fine. The garage smelled of green soap. The floors shone. There was a particularly good-looking guy picking up his motorcycle and there I saw the lost child. I had to pay 180 euros, but I could leave her there all day if I wanted. I still had a free parking day (that’s female logic) at a prime location. You see; Paris by car is always a good idea. Even if you get towed away.