On yet another adventure, today I find myself traversing the French countryside in an ancient, red Peugeot-106. Ardently vibrating, Max as she’s called, carries us through the foothills of a vast network of Auvergne volcanoes and we dream of pulling over for a bite of “saucisse et aligot”. We push through the hunger while listing to a little Ella & Louis on the radio, and soon we roll into the green vastness of Cantal. Farms are abundant, cows here are beautiful.
The sun is beginning to set; rays of orange and red bound among lonely clouds in the open sky above. And I know that we have somewhere to be but I wish I could stay here, stuttering along some lost highway in a picturesque, nowhere-like part of the world, full of gratitude with my beau next to me, hand on my thigh, eyes on the road, and my puppy, sitting upright on the backseat, chin resting on the window watching the wide world fall slowly behind us as we pass.