Monday, June 01, 2009

My relationship with Jacques is complicated, I’ve been his whore, he became a mentor and adviser, and now we’re friends. All overlaid by he also being a patron of Kim & Co through the companies he controls. We talked once of an additional relationship call it mistress, or companion what ever. Our expectations were too different, my wanting an out front public relationship. He wanted me to come and go by the back stairs, the explanation being in the opening sentence.

I hadn’t seen him in a couple of months when he called to say that he was looking at a vintage car Sunday and did I want to join him. A drive in the country sounded appealing and I do enjoy his company. He picked me up in a BMW coupe that I’d not seen before. I told him that I expected the red rocket ship and found out it had been sold, perhaps to be replaced with another. He inquired what I thought of the BMW and I was not committal. “You don’t care for it,” he asked. Not particularly I admitted.

The car was located on an estate a couple of hours from Paris, when we arrived it was parked, staged really outside the garage. We got out and walked around it. A Facel Vega, Jacques had told me, I’d never heard of it. He gave me a little history, more information than I needed now. The owner and his son, a tall gawky kid of about 15 joined us, the keys were offered and soon we were off on a test drive. A few miles down the road, Jacques pulled off, got out and looked under the hood. He poked around there for a few minutes and then we continued.

When we arrived back, the usual buyer-seller posturing began and I asked the boy to show me the other cars. He jumped at the chance. There were a dozen cars, all European from the 50’s and 60’s; the last was an MG, which would be the boys when he received his license he told me excitedly. I asked if I could sit in it and he rushed to open the door for me. I found it kind of appealing. Over lunch, I told Jacques that and he suggested that I get one, that I wouldn’t regret it. I told him I’d think about it, all the time thinking about how much it cost to keep Waldo.

The day was sunny and mild so we found a café with a patio for lunch, after which he asked if I minded if we stopped at his cousins on our way back to Paris. I’d met this cousin and other family members before but as pulled up the drive, he told me that I’d probably be meeting his aunt.

Sure enough, we were whisked into her study and the introductions were made and soon Jacques exited with his cousin, leaving me with the aunt. The aunt is the matriarch of the family and the surviving member of her generation. I hope that at 40 I can be as intimidating as she is at 80. We talked, more like she asked me questions with out actually stating a question. I suspect, well I know, that she knows her nephew, the exchequer of the family fortune, is a sucker for a pretty face and she was checking to see if damage control was in order.

If I didn’t pass her test, it would be Jacques problem, not mine.



Anonymous VJ said...

Amusing to be certain. But don't go for the MG, no matter how appealing they may appear. You'll spend the rest of your leisure time fixing & repairing the poor dear. They're scarcely drivable even in 'excellent' condition'. At first glance the FV is an acquired taste I guess. It looks like any other GM/Chrysler/Ford products of the same era. Not every impressive to look at really. And that was often the most impressive things about them, the styling! Many of the FV's interiors do look a bit more entertaining though. Here's to the continuing saga of Kim & Jacques too. Cheers & Good Luck, 'VJ'

1:23 AM  

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