On Four Wheels And A Prayer

Sun Herald

Sunday October 1, 2006

Flip Byrnes

A beat-up car put Flip Byrnes on Napoleon's path.

THERE seemed to be something missing. "Um," I ventured hesitantly, "There's no CD player." Considering the car had no radio, a roof that clipped off with press-studs, windows that didn't wind but folded and a fuel tank that optimistically pointed eternally at full, it would be fair to guess that the CD stacker was not a standard option in a Citroen 2CV circa 1976. But it did, apparently, have air-conditioning.

I asked the French vendor: "What if it gets hot?" He regarded me with disgust: "You lose ze top, madame."

OK, what if I got cold? This time he smiled. "Oooh la la," he purred. "Then you take a lover, no?"

The car, to be honest, didn't look like it would make it to the local shops. Me, I was planning on taking it across the Napoleon Route from Cannes to Grenoble, a distance of 400 kilometres of winding alpine roads following the route of Napoleon Bonaparte before he bit the dust at Waterloo. I would do in a few hours what took him a week, but he had short legs. I, on the other hand, had a classic French car.

The uncertainty of making it in one piece made the adventure even more appealing. Armed with multiple roadside assistance numbers, dreams of tootling down leafy village lanes (topless and loverless) and a bundle of boundless optimism, off I set.

To where? Good question. First stop, the garage for a map.

"Where are you going?" he asked. I told him Grenoble. He looked at the 2CV, back at me, back at the car and scratched his head.

And then, cigarette dangling precariously close to my fuel tank, laughed. Thinking the car was about to explode, I did not.

The Alps begin directly out of Cannes, and after a quick cruise on the auto route where Cedric (all 2CVs have a name and this one was Cedric) and I became acquainted, I began the long climb past Grasse, crunching gears all the way.

After about 200 kilometres I would have puttered through the obscenely picturesque town of Barreme, if it weren't for the police.

At first I thought they were being friendly and waving, but no, I was being pulled over. As I slowed from a blistering 30 kmh, I made a mental list of possible offences I had committed. Nope, nothing came to mind, and it certainly couldn't be for speeding.

It turned out the police were interested in the car. "Bonjour," they said and then began to ask me how did an Australian come to have such a French car, and was I really going to Grenoble? After much laughter and head shaking they waved me off.

My final destination was Lolette, a small village perched above the napping city of Grenoble. It was just one mountain pass too many and Cedric gave his last gasp.

Always prepared, I changed into a short skirt and was soon being towed to my destination by two new friends.

My arrival in Grenoble came 190 years, four months and two days after Napoleon, but had he been around, I am sure we would have shared a pastis and toasted the Napoleon Route, where a little adventure can still be found.

YOUR CHOICE

My husband and I had a short midwinter break at Cable Beach Resort in Broome - paradise! The average daily temperature was 29 degrees, gentle sea breezes, blue skies, sunshine, breathtaking sunsets - and the magnificent 22-kilometre stretch of Cable Beach with pristine white sand and turquoise water. We spent the days lazing on the beach, marvelled at the camel rides, enjoyed a sunset cruise and window-shopped for stunning pearls. On the way home we had a two-day stopover in Perth, enjoyed the sights of Fremantle and Cottesloe and thrived on the buzz of the Perth CBD.

Rhoda SilberThe Sun-Herald Travel would like to hear about your favourite holiday destination.Write to Your Choice at travelshd@mail.fairfax .com.au describing in 100 words your best trip and the things that made it memorable. All winning entries receive a Lonely Planet guide book.

© 2006 Sun Herald

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