The French Alps

There must be a cool office somewhere in the world full of
people that get to name roads. For the most part its probably a pretty
boring job as most roads and highways don’t drum up much excitement or
at least not enough to create a name worthy of such. I bet, however,
that the dudes called upon to drum up a smart name for the roads
winding through the French alps were psyched with their final
The D900, the D911 and the D912(which must be 1 up from an
emergency 911) are psychotic works of civil engineering that have been
painstakingly constructed as passable roadways through some of the
most amazing works of mother nature known to man.

Now, I obviously have a different take on the situation given my
perma-seat as the navigator on this trip. For me, I get to observe all
that surrounds us while Nicole has her eyes firmly set on the road and
the white lines in which the very continuum of our livelihood rests.
For 2 days we bobbed, weaved, bucked, gasped and trudged through the
debacle of roadworks which at times fatally dangerous gave way to
spectacular views the likes either of us knew existed.
Occasional nausea on my part and a tear or two on Nicole’s were the
only casualties of the trip. In the end, we made it through to
Switzerland and beyond a stretch of roads that was in itself, an
experience to be remembered.

Thanks for reading….and be thankful for guard rails, Europe thinks
they are stupid…..



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