“That was a little too close,” said Dizzy, pulling his cab out of the airport drop-off zone and heading back toward the city.
“Rudee’s face looked like a hothouse tomato when he picked up the luggage,” I said. “How much can Sashay’s suitcase of scarves weigh?”
“Oh, I imagine Rudee is smuggling beets aboard. You can’t see him going a whole week without the king of vegetables, can you?”
“No, I suppose not,” I said, curling my nose at the memory of Rudee’s pungent lunchtime favourite.
“Sooo,” said Dizzy slowly, “I took the liberty of suggesting a day trip to Versailles for your parents tomorrow.” I was immediately suspicious. “This just happens to coordinate nicely with the rally training session at CAFTA.”
“Ah, so the Christmas festivities are over so soon,” I said.
“I’m sure there will be lots of buche de Noël served with the hot cider tomorrow,” said Dizzy with a smile.
The thought of those weighty chocolate logs made me sleepy and happy. “I love how they put the sugar on top to look like snow.”
Dizzy glanced at me with a grin and I knew he was thinking what a child I was. So what, it was Christmas. Bring on the chocolate, whipped cream, and fizzy sodas!
The next morning, the parents headed to Versailles to discover the gaudy palace of the sun king, Louis XIV, while I went to a café in Montmartre to get together with a bunch of cabbies to learn as much as possible about road rallying in one go. Maurice and Henri Rocquette, the brothers who played in Rudee’s band, The Hacks, were bringing things to order, never an easy task at the Café Taxi, where arm wrestling, card playing, and impromptu singing, sometimes all at once, were the norm.
“Attention, my fellow Parisiennes and winners of last year’s taxi rally challenge….” Maurice paused, grinning, to allow the inevitable roar of approval. “Yes, we know the rules, the opponents, and what’s at stake, but this year there will be new drivers and navigators.”
At this point Henri jumped in. “And substituting for Rudee Daroo, who of course is on his honeymoon,” here the drivers let out a collective oooo, “on a cruise ship in the Mediterranean,” Henri paused dramatically to allow a group ohhhh, “is our favourite California girl, Mademoiselle Mac!”
The room erupted in a cheer, and I blushed. Is there any way to stop a blush? I think my mom imagines people in their underwear so she doesn’t feel embarrassed. Yech! Maurice got down to business.
“For the drivers we’ve got new simulators to create the feeling of bumpy country roads in the south of France, and for the navigators detailed maps of the south and sample riddles to solve. Allons-y, mes amis!”
An instant din filled the room before Henri shouted, “One more thing. Madeleine has the new team shirts to hand out. What do you think?”
Madeleine, in her wheelchair at the front of the room, held up a shirt with the image of a grinning gargoyle, like the ones on the roof of the Notre Dame cathedral, at the wheel of a taxi. Cheers greeted her as she wove through the room.