The C2 vs. the Scooter

There is a public service billboard they run in Paris sometimes, showing a busted up scooter (a small motorbike, not a kid's toy) and a message something to the effect of "Be careful when you're driving, you could kill someone on a motorbike".

These ads always infuriate David, who argues that it's not a motorist's responsibility to watch out for the pesky little motorbikes breaking the traffic laws and dodging between lanes, weaving around cars. Motorbikers can be downright nasty if you don't leave enough room for them to zip between lanes.

And, understandably, even more aggressive if you happen to knock them off of their bikes.

David was in Germany for business on Wednesday, so I found myself driving home alone in typical afternoon rush hour traffic. I was on a busy two lane street, waiting to turn left with my blinker on. When oncoming traffic cleared, I began my turn.

Foolish me to not check my left mirror first to make sure no one was coming up the middle of the street.

I desperately hope, that upon leaving Paris one day, one of my lasting memories of this city will not be the image of the young black man flying backward off his bike at my side window. Or the look on his face - a mixture of pain and pure irritation. But mostly irritation.

I pulled off to the side of the road in a hurry, accidentally knocking the wipers on in my haste, sending the blades into a comical frenzy. I dashed onto the street, where the young man was simultaneously picking up his bike and telling me off. I figured if he was already dusting himself off, already cursing at me, it couldn't be that bad. I decided not to panic and asked what I'd heard people say to me when I stumbled or tripped over myself: ca va?

He wheeled his bike over to where I was parked, turned off the engine, and proceeded to inspect his elbow, all the while glaring at me. I shrugged and said "Hey, I'm sorry. Really. I didn't see you." He continued to grumble and took off his unscathed jacket to inspect his unscathed elbow.

I waited patiently to make sure everything was really as unhurt as it seemed. He kept glaring at me and muttering, but we both knew the unspoken truth: in the presence of a policeman, I would be completely in the right. Especially if I hiked my skirt up a few centimeters.

A few girls trotted across the street to volunteer their input. They tutted and told the guy "You were lucky, heh?" and then to me, "Ca va?"

Oh yeah, how was I? "Oh, I'm fine" I managed. Didn't know the words for "shaken up". Feeling a bit insensitive, I walked around to inspect the side of the car. The side mirror was folded back awkwardly, but unhurt all the same.

I returned to the biker, who shooed me away impatiently with a hand. "You can go, madame." I watched as he restarted his bike and zoomed away. The girls returned to their side of the street and I was left alone with my folded mirror. I snapped it back into place and had a good look; I'd incurred more damage when I hit a pheasant.

All the same, I was unnerved. I parked the car in front of our apartment building and decided to take the metro to my dinner plans. I'd had enough city driving for a while.