Nostalgia is not an admission of pessimism or defeatism, it is rather a cry of love, here is how to summarize in a few words the following text written by Georges Bouris, fan of the first hour of the DS (the previous one, because Georges is not a fan of recent models he insisted that I clarify and that he agrees to publish his story) and especially excellent storyteller. He takes us in 1965 aboard his DS for a trip to the South of France.
I remember this departure… as I do every year, the night before was restless and it was hard to get to sleep; too much excitement, too much impatience, too many thoughts flowing. Anything? What will the weather be like? Sunny, rainy? The weather is important when you are on your way to the holidays and you will have to sit in the car for almost two whole days.
Last checks: the DS is well loaded, but it looks great, all black like the General’s but with a turquoise roof. The ignition is well adjusted, the oil change is done, not to mention the oil, water and hydraulic fluid levels… holy hydraulic fluid, in fact. Just a few days ago, a gasket gave way and I broke down… I should have bought a Peugeot, my father told me! For the reliability, I would have gained, for sure, but for the rest…what a car this DS is. I bought it new in ’58… it’s the 32.000th produced, so I’m one of the lucky ones, even pioneers! I’ve owned it for 7 years already and it hasn’t aged a day…
That is it, it’s the start, at last. A bowl of coffee, a Nescao for the son, we close the shutters, the door, we turn off the gas. I start, the DS slowly straightens up. Goodbye Paris…
The weather is quite nice, a few clouds dot the pink morning sky, it is cool… good for the mechanics, I don’t know what they will endure today.
Go to Fontainebleau: barely an hour to reach the Obelisk crossroads, what a good thing I left early, Parisians must be just waking up now. I have the choice between two routes: National 6 or 7: let’s go for the N6, it’s the one I prefer, more rolling, more beautiful too, because it crosses this deep Burgundy that I love so much…Joigny, Arnay-le-Duc, Saulieu, the wild Morvan, then Tournus, so many famous gastronomic stages…but today, no question of lingering: a stop at Bel- Air to refuel and a snack break on the side of the road. A fresh wind is rising: I had forgotten that the climate is harsh in Bel-Air…in winter, the place is really hostile, in summer, it’s barely bearable.
It’s a long road, it’s time to go back…
We are already in Lyon and we are now following the N7. The crossing of the city is always difficult, but thanks to a welcome storm, the temperature remains cool and the mechanics do not heat up…with a bit of luck we will sleep in Vienne tonight. Vienna is already almost noon…
We stop at the Relais des 500 bornes. I park the DS in front of our room, like in American motels. All around us, the car park is full: Panhard, Tractions, Peugeot 203, 404, Ami 6: Julien quickly noticed the beautiful foreigner, parked a bit further away: a magnificent 190 SL with a green leather interior, really sumptuous…certainly a celebrity going down to St Tropez.
The next day, the sky is azure blue. It’s precisely at an Azur petrol station that I stop shortly before noon: a belt noise that has been worrying me for the past few kilometres. The garage owner’s verdict was reassuring: the high-pressure pump is empty, nothing serious. 15 minutes of waiting and we set off again… The traffic gets denser, especially when we cross the villages… first real traffic jams in Valence, then it gets complicated in Montélimar…an interminable queue. Behind me, an English convertible starts to heat up… it’s true that the temperature already reaches 29°. I buy some nougat without even getting out of the car and we finally continue our way… after more than an hour of lost!
The National 7 is starting to be really beautiful here. Sheltered by the big plane trees, the trip is pleasant. The DS slides on the asphalt smoothly, it seems to fly over the road. That’s it: we haven’t arrived yet but the holidays have already started.
The Nationale 7 is starting to look really beautiful there. Sheltered by the big plane trees, the trip is pleasant. The DS glides smoothly over the asphalt, it seems to fly over the road. That’s it: we haven’t arrived yet but the holidays have already started.
Lapalud, Piolenc, Orgon, one village after another. The cicadas haven’t left us for several dozen kilometres, a little as if they were travelling with us.
The crossing of Lambesc, Pourcieux, and especially Tourves makes me pester: how can a national road pass through these villages with narrow streets? The traffic jams are endless, the heat is stifling, not to mention the exhaust fumes… we are promised the motorway but how long will it take? Some voices are raised among politicians to denounce a real scandal: our European neighbours may have fewer roads than us, but they are much more modern…
The sun is already declining. We arrive in Fréjus. I hope to reach the Esterel before nightfall, all these bends with my 6-volt headlights, it is dangerous.
Speaking of danger, just before Fréjus, in Puget, we are slowed down by a serious accident: a news truck has cut the road with a 4 CV. The road rescue is already there. The driver is in bad shape. It’s the first accident I’ve seen on this trip. In previous years, it was impossible to drive 300 kilometers without encountering a more or less serious cardboard box: what a fatality, these road accidents…
The Esterel is swallowed without any difficulty. What magnificent landscapes, and for the first time we see the Mediterranean Sea: always the same emotion. I wake up the children sleeping in the back… “Look at the children, the sea, we’re almost there”…
Tonight, we stop over in Grasse at Thierry’s house who invited us to spend a few days in peace and quiet. Then, we’ll go to the campsite in Menton to join a bunch of friends with whom we’ve been meeting at the same places for 5 years now: les Etrenne, les Tartevieille, les Couturiers… lots of laughs in perspective! We will also take the opportunity to cross the nearby border post to go to Italy… in few word, the adventure.
Ah the holidays 65! What an incredible memory, what happiness we lived. It feels like it was yesterday… it seems so close but it’s already so far away…
Images by Sophia M-P
