“Sid,” people often remark to me casually, “You seem like a together guy, full of chutzpah, tsuris, and other Yiddish words. What’s a guy like you driving on a trip like yours?”

Who’s your partner? Who’s your tepee?

Well, up until today, the answer was that sweet, full-on diesel-powered Partner Tepee you see at right. Brought to you by Peugeot, the Tepee boasts plenty of interior space, but without all that powerful engine that just gets in the way in some other cars. Who needs it?

We leased that bad boy with the friendly assistance of our good friends at Peugeot Open Europe. We met them on the Internet, so we’re pretty sure they have our best interests at heart.

French people are endearingly loyal to their domestic cars — most of the wheels rolling on French roads were made by Peugeot, Renault, and Citroen, brands that have long since disappeared from the US scene (ah, but who can forget the triumphant Le Car from Renault…pretty much everyone, actually). Purchased new, these cars carry a healthy VAT tax bite for French citizens.  Since the only thing French people love more than charging one another high taxes is skirting those very same taxes, all of the major French car manufacturers have a long-term lease program aimed straight at tourists. The idea is that you get a brand new car, completely insured and licensed for anywhere from three weeks on up to the maximum of 171 days. When you return your leased car, the manufacturer simply delouses it tidies it up and then turns around and sells it domestically without having to charge the VAT. Et voilà – a sweet little French tax dodge in action.

We didn’t realize it at first, but cars operating under this sort of lease brand their operators as foreigners – all long-term leases sport red license plates, in contrast to the normal yellow and white ones. This is probably a good idea for everyone’s safety – I imagine it helps other drivers to know that at any moment we may drive in the bus lane, on a sidewalk, the wrong One Way, or just completely freak out in a roundabout. Caution – tourist may bail.

Well, yesterday, the gig was up. Our allotted days had expired and now it was time to

So long, Partner

return the car to the airport in Lyon. Unfortunately, our next long-term lease doesn’t officially start until February 1st, so we needed a regular rental to bridge the gap. Which brings us to the topic that’s become a regular little Circle of Hell for your faithful correspondent, complete with the requisite demonic flames, and the guys in green jumpsuits and berets jabbing me in the chest with their hand-rolled Gallic cigarettes – snow tires. What, no guys in green jumpsuits in your visions of the underworld?

Here in Grenoble, you can bet your sweet bippy that there’s a fair bit of snow. And if you want to get your Killy on and be part of that Alpen action, you’re going to need some snow tires to get to the slopes.

I’m afraid I’ve got some bad pneus.

So, back in November, we bit the bullet and hit the local Feu Vert (French for “green light”, though I prefer the literal “Green Fire!” translation) to get some snow tires. That set us back a few shekels, as did the replacement of one of them when it got a screw in the sidewall. And, of course, we had to lug all four of the summer tires up a couple flights of stairs for storage on our handy balcony (everyone here just loves their new American neighbors and can’t wait for the eventual appearance of a stripped Citroen up on blocks on the balcony, plus maybe a little crank kitchen, too), an experience that was so diverting that we couldn’t help but enjoy reliving it when we had to swap the summer tires back onto the car before returning it. And we get to do it all again when we get our next long-term lease car in February — woot! When we were romanticizing up our personal visions of a French lifestyle, oddly enough, it didn’t include what’s turned into our second residence at ye olde Feu Vert.

Where was I? Snow tires. Pneus d’hiver. In addition to their tendency to forcibly extract money from our pockets, the other reason they haunt my nights is the sheer impossibility of actually pronouncing their name. Now, there are no lack of French words that I mispronounce badly, but I’m gonna have to put the diabolical “pneus” up there near the top of the list. The “p” is not silent as it is in English words starting with “pneu,” nor is it quite spoken. Instead, you just sort of puff a little air out the edges of your mouth in some maddeningly incomprehensible way. I’m fairly certain French people have some sort of embedded digital voice synthesis module that lets them make these sorts of sounds. Frankly, it’s the only explanation that fits.

In any case, my attempts at saying “pneus d’hiver” have become a real source of entertainment down at the Feu Vert, with employees flocking in droves to the service counter whenever I arrive and erupting in gales of laughter when I eventually give ‘er the ole go and say something like “puh-nooze” or “pa-noodles” or “pa-screwit.”

yeah, but what about that rental car?

With nine days left until our next long term lease is ready to pick up, we wanted a rental car with snow tires so we could continue to go skiing. Unfortunately, the only thing available with snow tires was a giant Mercedes van named “Vito.” Seriously. No, really – that’s the name of the car, as you can see in the picture below. That’s Hortense the nice rental agent explaining why the rear wiper is wrapped in duct tape – because it’s broken. Ah. Fair enough, then.

An offer you can’t refuse

Vito comes with a wide variety of dents and dings, owing in no small part to the fact that driving a giant, 9-person van in European cities with average road widths approaching the size of my head is pretty much just asking for it. He also comes with German license plates, which has been a real conversation-starter for us as we ply the French roadways, though most of the conversations start with lines like, “Why are you here?” and “How soon are you leaving?” and “Go home, Adolf.”

I’m kidding. Perhaps I’m a bit over-sensitive. I’ll have to ask the guys down at the Feu Vert what they think when I see them next week to put the snow tires back onto our next car.