The Autoroute du Soleil on vacation
Too hot for the engine and its driver. The holiday stream runs north again. Lots of yellow license plates, vut racks full of bicycles and caravanists. Ongoing freight traffic. But the time to drive back is too short for the scenic route on the Nationaux Routes. And the Moto Guzzi V7 Special is as scratchy forty + there still 'Autobahnfest'. The leather pants stay on. The engine block exudes too much heat for shorts. Above the belt: a valveilig T-shirt with the text "The KGB is still watching you" Pfahhh. They certainly have not heard of the AIVD.
The ROOF boxer helmet is completely open
The sunglasses keep most of the wind out of the eyes. With 130 on the counter, the old Moto Guzzi keeps on running. Must also. He's had plenty of time to learn. It's time for another stop. On the Aire de Tournalet. It is - with apologies for the language - busy God all Jesus. One million Dutch caravanists. Two hundred and fifty thousand trucks of all nationalities. Thousands of French people who just can't do it anymore. Motorcycles are parked here and there. Dutch children from the caravan tractors wander around and are living proof that their parents should in fact be deprived of any right to procreation.
A corrective tap
The helmet is not yet finished whether a Kevin or Kjelt is turning like the throttle of the engine. The child receives a slap. "Salty k ** toddler!". The heat is crusty. While the fire has just been set in the cigar, an angry parents with the Kevin or Kjelt plus an Anita or Kimberly arrives. Whether I have beaten their child? Yes. "And I am now about to redeem you". The family is modestly withdrawing. The woman screams at her husband “Don't you let that tell you !? Cock! "Screams at me:" Antisocial cancer motorcyclist! ". There is arguing again tonight instead of having sex. This way there will be no third child. Well done.
The cigar is burning. Nicotine expels free radicals.
Fine. Because they are bad. Very bad. A column of Russian trucks leaves the Aire. That makes way for a stationary running Portuguese refrigerated semi-trailer and a blue-yellow combination of Betz with its two former Eastern block drivers for the price of one. A crossing mother and child are almost upset by a German on a KTM who leaves on his rear wheel.
The gendarme arrives
Two motorcycle policemen are driving on the Aire. On BMWs. They stop. Put the engines on the side stands. Do their Ray Ban sunglasses. Af. Take off their helmets. Put on their sunglasses again.
Two perfectly muscular men in uniform with short sleeves and short hair. They let their heavy eyes float over the air.
The two of them have total force majeure over at least five hundred people.
A mother quickly picks up a lollipop paper from the floor. A motorcyclist walks the full five meters to put his sandwich packaging in the garbage can.
In some countries, an agent is simply not someone to get rid of.