Waiting for the tow.

These were taken right after my famous dumbass moment of putting 12 liters of gasoline into the tank of our diesel rental. As ever, Janie did the heavy lifting with her French and her ability to deal with service people.

When we realized my mistake, the girl at the gas pumps helped push the car over out of the way. Janie called Sixt, our rental company, and went through reporting our mistake. In my defense this is, apparently, a common problem and not only with elderly Americans. Sixt sent a tow truck to take it to be pumped out, at our expense, at a garage. Janie did all of the talking and this man arrived and picked up the car and drove off.

Suddenly, there we were in the LeClerc parking lot, with two huge bags of groceries, ten miles from our house. Yikes. We went to the service desk in LeClerc, a chain of French supermarkets, and asked for taxi company numbers. They gave us six and Janie called them all and they had no cabs!?! We went back to the service desk and the woman had to call three more before we got a cab back to Saignon. From what I could determine, if a taxi company in France/Provence?/Apt? has all it's cabs in use, it says no cabs. They don't give you a wait time or take your name and address and send a cab later. There must be a logic to this, but it had us looking at a ten mile walk up a steep hill with two heavy bags. Scary prospect late in the day.

All's well that ends well. We got the cab and the next day our friend Gary Brown took us to get the car....28 km away!