187. On the road (1/3)

I pick up my son outside his boarding school. I park outside the gates and wait. After some time - to him 2 minutes, to me an unbearable 30 - I see him dragging his suitcase, his gait a mix of cool and purposeful. I wonder does he work on this or does it just come naturally? A memory flashes into my head: his father years back, heading towards me as I am sitting in a Glasgow parking lot ... 

I remember to open the boot of the car before he tries to open it and he lifts his case in it and gets in next to me. Time to start a conversation. Take care not to sound too enthusiastic, in fact try to sound as if you do not care at all.

'How's the week been? How was the exam?'

'Good.'

Just one 'good' for two questions. Poor performance. But really how silly of me to ask two questions in one. The poor lad probably has an empty stomach. So here I go again, all the while reversing the car to prove just how much I do not care.

'The exam this morning?'

I see him checking the mirror. Just like his dad!! But I say nothing, make no comments. We have a long day ahead of us.

'Perfect.'

I can't help it. I sound surprised.

'Really?'

'Honest.'

I keep quiet and take it as an honest 'honest'. The reversing is tricky as every one in this parking lot is a parent with a teenager in the car and everyone is reversing out of their spaces asking about the exam. Which means this car park is now classified as extremely high risk potential. 

I set up the GPS and its robot-like voice greets us with: 'There are accidents on your road. Estimated delay: 56 minutes. You are still on the fastest route.'

I ignore the warning. We're a long way from the crash. It will be cleared by then. My son is behaving like his father looking at the road, waiting to see if I can tell green from red at the lights, if I take the roundabouts the right way around ... Once on the motorway he seems to give up on this (unlike his father) and we have a conversation. Actually we have a question-answer exchange which consists in me asking the questions and my son answering with yes or no. Or with sounds which could pass for yes and no. They are definitely more possible interpretations for the umpths and grumpths and yearrhs.

At one point he even says 'It's nice!'. 

I turn towards him and he is pointing at the window and beyond at the landscape!!! My son is talking! About the landscape!

Meaningful sentences proving he is aware of the surrounding environment! I looked at the 'nice' view: rolling fields in soft green clashing with the bright yellow of the colza crops, a thick line of black-green trees along the horizon highlighting the pale white-grey sky above. It truly is a view. 

'Yes, it is.' I replied, unsure if the brevity of my answer was due to the shock.

This effort was a bit much for the poor lad, all this talking and finding the right words and the correct tone to keep his mama interested ... He soon dropped off to sleep (just like his dad).

Then I drove. And the more I drove the more the traffic build up. And the GPS kept going on about 'you are on the fastest route'. 

Under grey skies and on grey tarmac I kept on driving. My son kept on sleeping. I must have slowed down abruptly at the péage because my son woke up. His little nap had done him the world of good. He sat up and rolled his shoulders. He looked out of the car window again and for a second I saw my inquisitive little boy in him. We drove past Parc Astérix and he recalled having fun there, we went past the Stade de France and he looked in silence but I respected this silence and kept my mouth shut. If I spoke about this temple of modern sports I was sure to say something extremely silly and therefore upset him. 

The GPS advised us to go via the Boulevard Périphérique and I accepted. I prefer to drive round the Périphérique rather than take the long long way around via the motorway. Anyway Mrs Robot was telling me that they were more accidents. I had lost count of the number of warnings but now the fact that she was saying 3 accidents did make me wonder. I kept an eye on the clock now and it looked as we never going to be on time. We caught a glimpse of the Sacré Cœur, admired the tranquil Seine and saw the tip of the Eiffel Tower. Somehow it felt good to see it. It was still there standing in spite of it all, almost disdainful of us poor humans down below ... 

The traffic was now grid-locked. We only had 28 kilometres to go but the GPS said: 1 hour 38 minutes ... 

Clutch - in gear - 10 meters - break - clutch - 10 seconds - clutch - in gear - 10 meters - break - clutch - 10 seconds - clutch - in gear - 10 meters - break - clutch - 10 seconds - clutch - in gear - 10 meters - break - clutch - 10 seconds - clutch - in gear - 

To avoid his mother losing it altogether my son decided he was rested enough and after eating some sandwiches and chocolate (that his mama had packed for him) he decided the time was right for conversation.