Tot oder lebendig! In search of Mr. Bump

The next morning starts cloudy and gray, but not as wet as feared. Unfortunately, I had to realize in the evening that Monsieur Bump has terrible handwriting and there is hardly anything decipherable on the document that is supposed to ensure that I do not have any costs.

At the moment, the most important thing for me is the license plate number. What is written on the paper can mean anything, but guessed symbols do not help me and today I want to call the central office of the car insurance companies to find out my German insurance partner and start everything possible in motion.

I call Monsieur Bump again, but it goes to voicemail again. I decipher his address on the paper and look it up on Maps.

Strange, Malaucêne is quite far from Tulette, but well, I have no idea what routes are taken here.

So we take a quick swim in Suze-la-Rousse in the Lez and head to the address.

In Malaucêne, we are greeted by a thunderstorm, but we still search the specified street for a blue car, as blue as the deep grooves it left on the Twingo.

Unfortunately, no trace, neither of the accident car nor of the vehicle that Monsieur later came back to Tulette with, which is why we couldn't check his license plate on site.

We end the search before we get completely soaked. In the car, I check Google Maps again and realize that we are in the wrong town! Once again, I didn't look closely enough, we have to look for the car crash in Suze-la-Rousse...

So we return to the scene with a fresh pack of Macarons, but unfortunately, the construction site is deserted, Monsieur is working on other things today.

I also can't decipher his name and address as a witness...

In the meantime, Zappa, the expert on French characters, whom I contacted via WhatsApp, can only guess as well.

I am out of ideas now, I am exhausted and desperate, I can't believe that the cost coverage should fail because of an undefinable, undecipherable, unbelievable terrible handwriting!

If nothing else helps, we will sit in front of Monsieur's door for the rest of our vacation!

Zappa observes the minipal police armed with rubber truncheons and speed guns while waiting at the gendarmerie. Now he remembers that the executive branch in France is complex and difficult to understand for outsiders. He doesn't give up and says that if the gendarmerie doesn't want to help, maybe the municipal police will.

There is a police station in Bolléne, although it is in a different department, but this attempt will still be made.

I still don't believe in success here either, but my desperation is pretty big by now, and the 20km there and back don't matter anymore.

So, off to Bolléne for the second time today!

At this door too, without barbed wire this time, I have to ring first and explain my problem. A friendly lady in a colorful floral blouse and a warm smile opens the door. She greets me and asks me to speak German, but slowly.

We communicate in a mixture of German and French, and after a look at the accident report, she takes it, asks for a few minutes of patience, and disappears into the depths of the police station. It really only takes a few moments, then she is back, smiling at me, reassuring me that all the information from Monsieur Bump is correct, and she gives me his license plate number!

She gives me his license plate number!

Now I just have to not forget the correct numbers and letters until we get to the car!

A tremendous weight is lifted off my shoulders, and Madame can be sure of my eternal gratitude! She can see that in my expression and wishes me a good rest.

Now, all we need is for Mr. Insurance from Germany to answer the phone so that he can initiate the compensation process at Banque postale.

By the way, Monsieur Bump has still not called back to this day...