On our last day in Paris, we enjoy a lovely Italian lunch in Saint-Germain at Gioia. I was so excited to order the grilled vegetable salad and to finish the meal with a cup of Illy. Italians know coffee. After lunch, Nate and I go looking for a boulangerie while Jacob and the girls eat crepes on the sidewalk. We return as a motorcycle gang rolls-up. For us.
Picture seven French guys on retro motorcycles, complete with sidecars. It’s a bit of a scene. Thirteen of us. Seven of them. The roar of the engines. That moment of unease as everyone pairs off and you find yourself searching the crowd for a partner. One of the guides calls to me and offers me a helmet. I feel special when Eve volunteers to be my sidecar.
Grégoire straps Eve in with her blanket and optional goggles. He tells me I can hold onto the handle or to him, whichever I prefer. And we roll out of there in a rumble of engines, whoops and hollers.
It is exhilirating. It is freezing. Grégoire throttles it as we head down an underpass and I hold onto him for dear life. As we zip around Parisian traffic, passing on the right, and winding in and out of lanes, he tells Eve and me all about the things we pass. We see Jane Birkin’s house. And the beautiful, bougie Place Vendôme. He regales us with history and dates and all kinds of sites and scenery. Eve and I learn all kinds of things about our guide. He’s twenty-four. His mom owns a clothing store. His dad does cybersecurity for the stock exchange. His sister is a waitress. He’s doing this motorcycle gig as he’s prepping to take the French bar exam. He tells me he’s learned all his English through this job, which seems hard to believe, but he’s a smart guy. His job is to make sure we’ve got the entire group, taking side streets and circling back to follow the pack up the hill.
I ask him how many times he’s crashed. Perfect record– except for the time a taxi took off the sidecar’s fender while he was parked at a red light.
We stop for a huge group picture in front of the Moulin Rouge. We scale the streets of Montmarte, tourists and locals waving and snapping pics, arriving at the Sacre Coeur at sunset. Then we descend by the light of a full moon.
It was absolutely my most favorite thing we did, probably because Eve and I got the best guide. Jacob and Nate rode together. I’m told when they passed the last remaining vineyard in Paris, which Grégoire described in great detail…
Their guy pointed to his left and said, “Wine.”