Ou est la reverse dans mon Alpha-Romeo?
Sep 28th, 2007, 01:20 AM
#1
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2004
Posts: 4,725
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Ou est la reverse dans mon Alpha-Romeo?
Leaving Paris
The day we pick up our car and leave the city is always the tensest. We had downloaded a map from Mappy, programmed the GPS, and arranged to pick up our car from an agency outside the Periphique. It was a Saturday so traffic shouldn’t be too bad.
We stood in line for about half an hour at the Europcar booth but, when it was our turn everything seemed to go smoothly. I had asked for a diesel powered car but am prepared for the Rolling Stones warning that, “You don’t always get what you want.”
The young lady smiled and handed me a key chain with a thin black rectangle, about 1” by 2” attached. It had the usual buttons for lock, unlock and trunk. I flipped it over. I knew that insignia with the snake and the cross – Alpha-Romeo. I couldn’t believe my luck and, in case she had made a mistake, I quickly grabbed my paperwork and made my way to the parking garage.
There it was, grey and sleek and shiny; pointing toward the ramp and raring to go. I unpocketed the black rectangle, figuring it housed my key and tried to open it. There were a couple of recessed dents and I prised at them. Nothing opened. I pushed the unlock button and heard the click of the door. There was no key slot in the door.
I wedged myself into the driver’s seat and checked the dashboard. There was a slot about the same size as my little black case. I slipped the whole thing into the slot and lights and fans and such sprang to life. Checking the gear shift – the term four-on-the-floor flooded into my memory. Except this one was six forward gears and one reverse, over to one side. The speedometer top number was 260, admittedly kilometres an hour.
I pushed the button marked “Start and Stop” and the motor roared to life. Alpha-Romeos are known for powerful engines. We eased up the exit ramp, me carefully checking the narrow walls, into the Paris daylight.
We could see the Periphique beside us and knew that we must be on a service road. We eased up to a traffic light with six roads confusingly crossing.
“Left here,” Sandra directed. Now she is our navigator and I am the driver. I am hopeless on directions, having to check my GPS to find my way from home to the corner store. And maps...I still have no idea what they are about.
I turned a sharp left and stopped seeing the red circle indicating “No entry”. This was obviously the exit ramp for the Periphique but there was little traffic and we hadn’t yet started down it so i would simply back around and go over to the correct road.
I shoved the gear shift over in the direction of reverse, let out the clutch and we hopped forward a few feet. I pushed it over more vigorously and let out the clutch... a few more feet forward.
Now I had owned a Volkswagen, a Celica and a Prelude, each with its own reverse idiosyncrasy. I slapped the lever. I pushed down on the lever. I pulled up on the lever. Each time we hopped forward a few feet. Now we were definitely the wrong way on the ramp from the Periphique.
I checked the dashboard. Perhaps there was a magic reverse button. No.
Two passing women started jabbering at me and waving their fingers as you would at a young boy about to do something stupid.
I smiled and replied, “Je sais.” Or is it, “Je connais.” I never can get those two straight so I said both.
Three cyclists joined the crowd. Trying to stifle the panic from my voice I said, “Connaissez-vous, ou savez-vous, ou est la reverse?” I figured that going backwards had to be feminine.
All five began talking among themselves, pointing and directing. I pushed and smacked and pulled the lever a few more times, proceeding further towards my death. Give them credit...they all hopped along with me.
In desperation I ran my hands over the shift stick under the knob and there it was - a ring around the stick. I squeezed it up to the knob and the lever slipped over farther to the left into reverse. I backed carefully off the ramp to the safety of the street, all my new friends stopping cars waving me back.
I graciously thanked them all.
One of the cyclist asked, “Vous etes americain?”
Now I read all the Fodors threads and I remember the one about Canadian patches on backpacks. You know the one where some posters chastised Canadians for being explicit about their nationality. I swallowed my pride and lied, “Oui. Je suis americain.”
We drove off on our way to Dordogne.
Again, if you want to see the pictures, you will have to check my blog:
http://tinyurl.com/2uw7h9
The day we pick up our car and leave the city is always the tensest. We had downloaded a map from Mappy, programmed the GPS, and arranged to pick up our car from an agency outside the Periphique. It was a Saturday so traffic shouldn’t be too bad.
We stood in line for about half an hour at the Europcar booth but, when it was our turn everything seemed to go smoothly. I had asked for a diesel powered car but am prepared for the Rolling Stones warning that, “You don’t always get what you want.”
The young lady smiled and handed me a key chain with a thin black rectangle, about 1” by 2” attached. It had the usual buttons for lock, unlock and trunk. I flipped it over. I knew that insignia with the snake and the cross – Alpha-Romeo. I couldn’t believe my luck and, in case she had made a mistake, I quickly grabbed my paperwork and made my way to the parking garage.
There it was, grey and sleek and shiny; pointing toward the ramp and raring to go. I unpocketed the black rectangle, figuring it housed my key and tried to open it. There were a couple of recessed dents and I prised at them. Nothing opened. I pushed the unlock button and heard the click of the door. There was no key slot in the door.
I wedged myself into the driver’s seat and checked the dashboard. There was a slot about the same size as my little black case. I slipped the whole thing into the slot and lights and fans and such sprang to life. Checking the gear shift – the term four-on-the-floor flooded into my memory. Except this one was six forward gears and one reverse, over to one side. The speedometer top number was 260, admittedly kilometres an hour.
I pushed the button marked “Start and Stop” and the motor roared to life. Alpha-Romeos are known for powerful engines. We eased up the exit ramp, me carefully checking the narrow walls, into the Paris daylight.
We could see the Periphique beside us and knew that we must be on a service road. We eased up to a traffic light with six roads confusingly crossing.
“Left here,” Sandra directed. Now she is our navigator and I am the driver. I am hopeless on directions, having to check my GPS to find my way from home to the corner store. And maps...I still have no idea what they are about.
I turned a sharp left and stopped seeing the red circle indicating “No entry”. This was obviously the exit ramp for the Periphique but there was little traffic and we hadn’t yet started down it so i would simply back around and go over to the correct road.
I shoved the gear shift over in the direction of reverse, let out the clutch and we hopped forward a few feet. I pushed it over more vigorously and let out the clutch... a few more feet forward.
Now I had owned a Volkswagen, a Celica and a Prelude, each with its own reverse idiosyncrasy. I slapped the lever. I pushed down on the lever. I pulled up on the lever. Each time we hopped forward a few feet. Now we were definitely the wrong way on the ramp from the Periphique.
I checked the dashboard. Perhaps there was a magic reverse button. No.
Two passing women started jabbering at me and waving their fingers as you would at a young boy about to do something stupid.
I smiled and replied, “Je sais.” Or is it, “Je connais.” I never can get those two straight so I said both.
Three cyclists joined the crowd. Trying to stifle the panic from my voice I said, “Connaissez-vous, ou savez-vous, ou est la reverse?” I figured that going backwards had to be feminine.
All five began talking among themselves, pointing and directing. I pushed and smacked and pulled the lever a few more times, proceeding further towards my death. Give them credit...they all hopped along with me.
In desperation I ran my hands over the shift stick under the knob and there it was - a ring around the stick. I squeezed it up to the knob and the lever slipped over farther to the left into reverse. I backed carefully off the ramp to the safety of the street, all my new friends stopping cars waving me back.
I graciously thanked them all.
One of the cyclist asked, “Vous etes americain?”
Now I read all the Fodors threads and I remember the one about Canadian patches on backpacks. You know the one where some posters chastised Canadians for being explicit about their nationality. I swallowed my pride and lied, “Oui. Je suis americain.”
We drove off on our way to Dordogne.
Again, if you want to see the pictures, you will have to check my blog:
http://tinyurl.com/2uw7h9
Sep 28th, 2007, 02:37 AM
#4
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 4,247
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Funny, funny! And can I relate! We picked up a lovely BMW at St-Exupery-Lyon, and started off. About 45 minutes into our journey, we came to a little village with a wonderful view so naturally I made my husband stop so I could take some pictures. Got back in the car, inserted that funny black thing and pushed the start button...NOTHING. He must have one it 10 times while I am searching for the car's manual. Of course, the manual is in German and French, no English. Sunday morning, early, little village, everything shuttered, but finally we spotted one of the "green men" and called him over. No English but he did read the manual and with hand gestures told us you had to have your foot on the brake when you pushed the button!I guess D must have had his foot on it when he started it the first time without thinking about it.
I really am enjoyng your blog and have passed it on to some friends. I've already mapped out the bus routes to Le Sagittaire from our hotel!
I really am enjoyng your blog and have passed it on to some friends. I've already mapped out the bus routes to Le Sagittaire from our hotel!
Sep 28th, 2007, 03:42 AM
#8
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 1,664
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
My Hyundai Coupe V6 is the same. I think it's quite common on manual transmission cars with 6 forward gears. The "lifting-ring" idea is there to prevent you accidentally changing down from 6th gear to reverse instead of 5th (not recommended) 
Sep 28th, 2007, 04:46 AM
#9
Join Date: Jun 2006
Posts: 17,549
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
In my last trip report I talked about the Renault Megane we got in Bordeaux and how we (FINALLY!!!!) had the presence of mind to ask someone to show us how to get the thing into "reverse" BEFORE we left the lot.
Somebody here told me how "stupid" I was because I didn't know how to do it but I can relate entirely to your wonderful story.
Somebody here told me how "stupid" I was because I didn't know how to do it but I can relate entirely to your wonderful story.
Sep 28th, 2007, 05:23 AM
#10
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 1,577
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Hi Robjame! I've been enjoying your reports, thanks. I had a similar experience and it is very frustrating, but makes a good story. On the same trip, I also got tripped up on the security system - I had never seen one before and the car won't start if the security system is activated... live and learn!
I'm with you Dukey, I now ask these questions and try it out before leaving the car rental area!
I'm with you Dukey, I now ask these questions and try it out before leaving the car rental area!
Sep 28th, 2007, 06:42 AM
#11
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 3,977
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
A friend in Chicago owned an Alfa-Romeo. Once winter set it, the thing would not start. He had to leave it in a heated garage if he wanted it to start in the morning. Sure hope they have worked that kink out. The only car he ever owned that was worse was a Renault Dauphine. He called it his French Yugo.
Sep 28th, 2007, 07:25 AM
#13
Join Date: Mar 2005
Posts: 58
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Now I feel less alone. Same thing happened to me last June. Drove past the entrance to our gîte and went to turn around at the next switchback, steep of course--oops, where's reverse? And I have driven manual shifts my entire adult life. Ended up banging the front bumper a bit while consulting the car manual, which cleared everything up. From now on we don't leave the rental place until we go through all functions. Never could figure out how to get all the doors and the hatchback locked at once, even after numerous consultations with the manual.
Sep 28th, 2007, 07:39 AM
#14
LOVE it !! 
I know <b>exactly</b> how you felt.
Back when I was living in the UK I bought an old used Morgan +4 - the ultimate "attention" car. The seller delivered it to my house and I drove it around the village and pulled back in front. Next morning I had to drive it into Oxford to get the MOT (road tax sticker). No problems, found a parking place right in front of the office and was beaming w/ pride about my beautiful red roadster. I came out w/ my new MOT and hopped in the car -- and COULD NOT BACK OUT OF THE SPACE!!. I tried <u>everything</u> I could think of but could not find that damned reverse.
As I said - it is really an attention-getting car and several guys were looking it over even before I started struggling w/ the gear shift. How long can you stall w/ 2 cars waiting for the parking place and all these men standing around admiring the car???
I gave up and asked for help - and 2 of the men tried but they couldn't find reverse either (that made me feel a bit better) So finally I put it in neutral and a couple of the men rolled me out of the space and I was able to drive home.
Took me about 10 minutes sitting in front of the house before I found the right combination of lifting and depressing the gearshift to find the gate into reverse . . . . .
I know <b>exactly</b> how you felt.Back when I was living in the UK I bought an old used Morgan +4 - the ultimate "attention" car. The seller delivered it to my house and I drove it around the village and pulled back in front. Next morning I had to drive it into Oxford to get the MOT (road tax sticker). No problems, found a parking place right in front of the office and was beaming w/ pride about my beautiful red roadster. I came out w/ my new MOT and hopped in the car -- and COULD NOT BACK OUT OF THE SPACE!!. I tried <u>everything</u> I could think of but could not find that damned reverse.
As I said - it is really an attention-getting car and several guys were looking it over even before I started struggling w/ the gear shift. How long can you stall w/ 2 cars waiting for the parking place and all these men standing around admiring the car???
I gave up and asked for help - and 2 of the men tried but they couldn't find reverse either (that made me feel a bit better) So finally I put it in neutral and a couple of the men rolled me out of the space and I was able to drive home.
Took me about 10 minutes sitting in front of the house before I found the right combination of lifting and depressing the gearshift to find the gate into reverse . . . . .
Sep 28th, 2007, 07:48 AM
#15
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 3,977
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
All this reminds me of when a friend loaned me his SAAB. It was in his garage and I had to back out. No go. So, after a half-hour of bad language and fruitless tinkering, I phoned a SAAB dealer. A patient salesman told me to grasp the gear shift lever, feel around the rubber boot just below the shift knob, and squeeze upward. Darned if it didn't work! So OP, you are not alone -- these European cars can be both different and difficult.
Sep 28th, 2007, 08:03 AM
#17
Join Date: Jun 2006
Posts: 17,549
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Yes, Rkkwan, my own 6-speed sports car has a lock-out mechanism but it is a simple matter of depressing the gear shift.
Some of these cars with lifting rings and depression rings and whatever seem like they are trying to guard Fort Knox.
Now, when it comes to figuring out how to get that damned windshield wiper on the rear of hatchbacks to work....
how to STOP turning on the wipers when you are actually trying to adjust the dashboard lighting...
how to keep from spraying the windshield with washer fluid when all you WANTED to do was make a left turn...
Some of these cars with lifting rings and depression rings and whatever seem like they are trying to guard Fort Knox.
Now, when it comes to figuring out how to get that damned windshield wiper on the rear of hatchbacks to work....
how to STOP turning on the wipers when you are actually trying to adjust the dashboard lighting...
how to keep from spraying the windshield with washer fluid when all you WANTED to do was make a left turn...
Sep 28th, 2007, 08:12 AM
#18
Join Date: Feb 2004
Posts: 23,073
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Well, that's the fun of driving "foreign" cars. And it's the same for "foreigners" renting a car in the US. A common question: "Where's the parking brake?"
Anyways, it did take me a day or so to actually understand the automatic parking brake system on newer Renaults. It's actually very neat and it works well.
Anyways, it did take me a day or so to actually understand the automatic parking brake system on newer Renaults. It's actually very neat and it works well.
Sep 28th, 2007, 09:38 AM
#20
Join Date: Mar 2003
Posts: 22,986
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
French friends borrowed my RAV4 to go to Yosemite and could not get it started one morning because they did not know that one had to depress the clutch. The driver had done it automatically a couple of times, but simply forgot to do it that one time and the knowledge simply did not enter his consciousness.
