Vaucluse Dreamer

What a Day!

Sometimes travelling is easy and everything goes to plan, and then there are days (like today) when it’s exactly the opposite. What seemed like a simple early-morning trip to Nice, to collect our youngest from the airport, turned into yet another step along the steep learning-curve on crisis-management in France.

The day started easily enough, with a 4.15 alarm to give us time to walk Millie, before heading off on the 2 1/2 hour drive to Nice. We had planned to arrive early enough to park nearer to the city, take a walk along the seafront and have breakfast, before taking the tram to the airport to meet Tom. In our heads, it would be the perfect way to start the Christmas break.

It was all going well, until just after we joined the motorway at Aix-en-Provence, on our way towards Nice, when we started to hear a strange noise coming from the back of the car. At first we hoped we may be able to get to a place, where it would be safe to stop, but quickly it was evident that wasn’t going to be an option.

We pulled onto the narrow hard-shoulder, to take a look at what had happened. Stopping on a motorway is always worrying, but on an unlit stretch, on a very narrow strip of tarmac, with lorries and cars hurtling past, at what only feels like centimetres away, it’s quite terrifying. We took all the precautions we could, before Andy donned his high-visibility vest and got out to take a look at what had happened.

From the raised eyebrows and shocked look on his face, I could tell it wasn’t looking good and it was clear that our journey wasn’t going to go as planned. In fact, the rear left tyre had punctured and we needed to get it replaced, before we went any further. But where we were, it was just too dangerous, so we limped a few hundred metres further forward, where the hard-shoulder widened slightly, with a strip of grass to one side and once there, we took stock of what to do.

We had a ‘get-you-home tyre’ in the boot, and a pump with a product to be used as an emergency option to get us going. Unfortunately, we discovered a thumb-sized hole in the wall of the tyre and so the product wasn’t an option and we knew that even starting to change the tyre would be too dangerous.

Happily we are insured with AXA, so I called the emergency number to ask what to do. They explained that as we were broken down on the motorway, we would need to call the Gendarmerie direct, as they organise breakdown assistance and recovery for the Autoroutes and once their designated recovery had arrived, we should call AXA again.

As I was starting to talk to the Police Control, a ‘Vinci Autoroutes’ work truck pulled up behind us and the driver walked across to check how we were doing. He was calm and reassuring, telling us our exact location on the Autoroute, and making sure the Police recovery was en route & that we were safe, before he wished us good luck and waved goodbye.

We wrapped ourselves up in coats under the high-vis vests, and tucked ourselves behind the safety barrier to wait for assistance to arrive, and about 15 minutes later, we saw the reassuring flashing lights of the recovery truck come into view, which immediately pulled in front of our stranded car.

We quickly explained what had happened and that there was a ‘roue de secours’ in the boot, so the mechanic took a quick look, before loading the car onto the rear of the truck. We climbed up to join him in the lorry’s cab, completing paperwork, before he drove us off the Autoroute to a safe place beyond the péage,where he set about replacing the wheel. We were really impressed with the speed of the response, happy in the thought that still had plenty of time to make it to Nice, to be in time to meet Tom from the plane, but would probably have to forego our walk along the sea.

It served us right for counting our chickens before they hatched, as suddenly realised things weren’t going well. The mechanic kept shifting the wheel, altering it’s position as he was trying to secure it in place, but whichever way he tried to put it on, it wouldn’t fit. After several minutes of trying, he got to his feet, shrugged and asked if it was the right wheel? As far as we knew, it was. It had come with the car, but quite obviously it wasn’t and wasn’t going to fit in a month of Sundays. So what now?

The mechanic explained that he was simply contracted to get us to safety and do what he could to fix the problem, but that it would need a new tyre and so we would need to call AXA again for them to organise a second recovery truck to take over.

Accepting now that this was going to take longer than we thought, our ideas of getting to Nice on time for a ‘Love Actually’ type reunion with Tom in the Arrivals Hall, went out of the window. In fact, we were beginning to wonder if we would get there at all.

There’s no point getting angry, as these things happen, but we do feel as if we seem to be stuck in a glitch in normality, where if there is a chance of something going wrong, it will. So I took a deep breath and called AXA again.

The operator I spoke to was incredibly helpful and explained that they would send another recovery service to take the car to a ‘depot’ for repair. I explained that we were on our way to the airport to collect our son for Christmas and after the sound of a few key-strokes, she said they would arrange a taxi to collect us and take us to Nice and then organise a hire car, until ours was repaired.

It was sounding complicated, but at least that was a plan. We would just have to run with it and sort everything out after Christmas.

But just 15 minutes later, when the next recovery driver arrived, he was like a fairy godmother in high-vis overalls and immediately took control. He started ringing every tyre-replacement company in the area, to see if he could track down one that had what we needed in stock, so that the work could be done today, as that would be best for us. He sucked his teeth, saying it wouldn’t be easy as the festive season is in full swing and remarking that the main concessions were already closed for Christmas, but he smiled reassuringly, saying that he would try all he could to help.

In many ways it reminded me of a TV advert from my childhood, where an old man continually called bookshops, asking if they had a copy of ‘Fly Fishing by JR Hartley’, his face falling after every negative response. But after calling several, with me trying others on the list, I saw his face light up and heard him say, I’ll bring them straight away.

Before we knew it, we were sitting in our car, which had been secured onto the flatbed of the recovery truck, being driven back along towards Aix. It was all very surreal, as we were driven along at car-roof height, but it was worth it, as twenty minutes later we were dropped at a workshop and as we said goodbye, thanking our ‘fairy-godfather’ the car was whisked straight in, for the tyres to be replaced.

We just had time for a hot chocolate in the waiting room, before we were called back through to collect the keys and pay for the work they had done.

Less than an hour after being dropped off, we were back on the road and finally on our way to Nice, where Tom was now waiting for us, rather than the other way around.

Happily the drive from then on was pretty trouble-free, with minimal hold-ups, which was quite amazing for late morning of the main pre-Christmas travel day.

Arriving in Nice, we caught a glimpse or two of the Mediterranean, before pulling into the ‘Parking Minute’ at the airport, where we saw Tom waiting patiently for us.

A quick hug, before he climbed into the car and we started heading home again.

Back home now, we’re settled in front of the fire with a cup of tea and a mince-pie, reflecting on an unexpectedly busy day, which should have been so different. No one was hurt, we still managed to collect Tom and we now have all-season tyres, which will make life easier in the winter here. It’s just our wallet that is a little lighter.

I know I often wince at what we pay for our car insurances, but after today I won’t ever query them again. What’s important is that it was there when we needed it most. I have to take my hat off not only to AXA, whose call-handlers were calm, reassuring and helpful at every stage of the process, but also the recovery companies. The two drivers couldn’t have done any more to help us, and we can now settle down and enjoy Christmas, without any more worries.

But after this year, let’s just hope I haven’t spoken too soon!