There I was, killing time in a French auto-parts store. I’d popped in to collect a repaired tire, or pneu as they say here, but was told it wasn’t quite ready. The counter assistant, with a shrug and a very French “patienter?” suggested I might like to wait.
My gaze drifted towards what I could only assume was la salle d’attente – the waiting room. It was less a room, more a corner, furnished with a few tired-looking chairs and a pile of well-thumbed car magazines that seemed about as inviting as sitting in the penalty box. No thanks, I thought, I’d rather explore.
Wandering the aisles of this French car parts emporium, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for. And then it struck me – was this the store’s master plan? Lure in the hapless customer waiting for a repair, point them towards the unappealing “waiting room” (complete with hard seats and dusty magazines), and watch them gravitate towards the tempting aisles of car accessories! It was a clever ploy, if indeed a ploy it was.
Before I knew it, I was browsing items that had never even vaguely registered on my automotive radar: car decals, emergency escape hammers… and fuzzy dice.
Fuzzy dice! They have those in France? Suddenly, I felt a bizarre sense of connection, a universal automotive language spoken here amidst the shelves of car parts france. Despite never owning a pair myself, I felt a strange familiarity with les dés en peluche. Were they an American import? Or just another piece of global kitsch, like lava lamps and garden gnomes, equally at home in French houses and gardens? For a few nostalgic moments, I was lost in fuzzy, dice-related reverie. But the sales tactic – if it was one – almost worked. I nearly succumbed to a “head light”: a battery-powered lamp on a headband. Was it for peering into the depths of a car engine? Or perhaps essential kit for roadside emergencies? It seemed to pair well with the “life hammer,” which, I discovered, handily doubled as seatbelt cutters – vital for those dramatic entrapment scenarios!
I might even have purchased the headband-lamp-thingamajig (perfect for late-night reading, surely) if one of the salesmen hadn’t called out, “à vous, madame!” My tire was ready!
Reluctantly placing the fuzzy dés back on the shelf, I turned my attention to the counter, a small smile playing on my lips. If their aim was impulse buys, well, mes gars, this time, it was “no dice!”
