The word of the day: "plaques d'immatriculation." Or lack thereof. Our first misadventure occurred Saturday night when someone stole our leased car's license plates from where the car was parked on the street in front of the house. The kids investigated the rest of the street, and confirmed that we were the only victims. We are in a very nice neighborhood on a semi-busy street. We wonder if it's because our car had red plates (which indicate something about the short term character of our registration).
Scott called Peugeot, who has leased us the car, thankfully with full insurance coverage. Peugeot had never heard of this happening before. (Reminds me of a call to Amica about my Prelude years ago...) They sent a tow-truck Sunday morning to take it to a near-by shop to have to the plates replaced. Monday morning we discovered that while almost anyone can make most license plates in France, the red ones have to come from Paris.
Scott takes the metro to work, but public transportation to the kids' school is an hour each way, so Peugeot (pronounced "pooh- gee- ot" by 9 year olds) said they'd provide a rental car. Unfortunately, the rental car place was on strike. But somehow we now have a VW rental, to the joy of Bobby, and we will retrieve our Pooh-gee-ot tomorrow.
Meanwhile we filed a police report on-line, and Scott followed up with a visit to the police department on Monday morning. "What are you doing here?" he was asked, and then shooed away with a "We will call YOU when we want you to come in." We are thankful that we were were able to file the report on-line and have a copy of it in case our license plate is off breaking the law some-where.
I am also incredibly thankful for the following:
1. Having resources to cope with being in a foreign country -we are constantly thinking of the refugees. Specific resources: GPS!!! (In cars and on phones) Google translate!!! Free texting to the US!!! ( T-mobile) High school French!!! (Merci beaucoup, Mmes. Hodges and Paul)
2. Having kids that enjoy each other's company all day long, and cheerfully adjust to dramatic changes in life-style.
That's all for today. Off to brave the post-office after I google translate "registered mail."
That sounds like SUCH a hassle! Love the 9 year-old detectives investigating the area AND the police reaction to Scott going to the station. Hopefully you have the Pooh-gee-ot back today (but sounds like there was a reliable Plan B in the interim).
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