I had been in the family for a year by then, I believe. We were busy building the family house every weekend, which included trips to the French Lowe’s or Home Depot. Dad drove a Ford Fiesta hatchback because who cares about driving people around? We’re moving weight (concrete mix bags), bro!
So weird to look at now. Another life, another dimension, I don’t know.
Summer. On a sunny Sunday morning on the freeway, we were on our way to get some lumber or something. Maybe I was a little bored, though really happy to be sitting in the passenger seat instead of laying down in the back. Dad decided to do something.
“So, I’m thinking about pushing the car, to see how fast it can go, don’t tell your mom”
My face probably lit up at the idea of not only doing something risky and illegal, but doing it without anyone else knowing about it. Plus, I really wanted to see what’s like to drive really fast. I imagine I just said “ok!”
It was on the A4 freeway, which where we were about to get our “speed demon” scream, was the largest freeway in France: four lanes both ways. He also chose the part where it goes a little bit downhill.
“Is your seatbelt tight? Here we go!”
He jumped on the left lane and started to push his foot on the gas. I remember feeling so giddy.
130 km/h (80 mph) is the max authorized on freeways, but we used to rarely go that fast in general. 110 km/h was the usual freeway speed. And we were about to pass it!
115…120…130…145… Now we’re passing everyone. 150.
“I still have a bit of room under the pedal, but not much!” Dad is yelling now because the noise inside the car is pretty loud. That freeway at that time is a lot like a lot of US freeways: no asphalt, just rough concrete. He floors it.
155…160… I want to see 200!! I know it’s impossible –I already know at that time that only sports cars can go that fast– but it seems so close. The needle moves slower now. 165… 170…
We reach 177 km/h (110 mph). The car is vibrating heavily. We stay at that speed for a few minutes. It’s thrilling, the engine is roaring. It’s also not really as exciting as I thought it would be! We’re passing other vehicles faster. But it’s Sunday and we are not late for anything.
Dad slows down. We exit and go back home, silently. We never did that ever again with any of the next family cars.
It was cool enough that I remember it to this day, though.