Help! My Twingo Doesn't Work

THE STORIES JUST get better and better if what you're in the mood for is another reason to laugh at me (as opposed to with me).

On Wednesday evening I dropped off our car at the local Renault garage to have the front brakes replaced. The garage was very nice and gave me a loaner car to use for 24 hours until our car was ready. The car I received was a 1998 Renault Twingo (like the one in the picture). Not a problem: it was a bit run-down, but it ran fine and would certainly get me to and from work for one day.

The next morning I walked out of the house at about 7:15 to head in to work. I dropped my bag off in the trunk of the car, opened the gate from our house to the road, hopped into the little Twingo and gave the key a turn. Nothing. Tried again. Nothing. Certainly the third time would be the charm. Nope.

What to do now? I had no cell phone (that's for another entry!), we only own one car, the garage didn't open for 45 minutes, and I had a class to teach at 8:00 am. In a slight panic, I went back into the house, found the phone number of some colleagues and called them to let them know I wouldn't be in on time because the loaner car I had from Renault wouldn't start. Then I stewed around the house in a very irritated fashion -- lots of grunting and talking to myself. At 8:00 on the nose, I phoned the garage to bitterly complain that the car they had given me was a dud. Of course, I don't speak French very well so the conversation didn't go exactly as I had planned. I had hoped to say, "Madame, last night you gave me a car and this morning it doesn't start and I am pissed off. How am I supposed to get to work if you give me a car that won't start?" What I actually said was, "I have car from you, it not work today." But I said it in a really stern tone.

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But it was her response that caused me to write this story. She told me (very nicely, by the way -- and in French) to go outside, close the doors, and lock them with the remote on the key ring. Then she told me to wait ten seconds, unlock the doors, and try to start it again.

Was this a joke? Some sort of anti-American jab? Perhaps my tone was a little too stern and this was her way of letting me know she didn't appreciate it? These were the thoughts going through my head as I trudged back out to the Twingo to follow her instructions. I took the key out of my pocket and locked the doors, counted to ten, unlocked the doors, climbed inside, inserted the key and gave it a turn.

And would you believe the damn little Twingo started right up. How I was supposed to know about this 'feature' I don't know, but I was sure happy it worked. I even went back into the house and gave the woman at the garage a thank-you call. Now I just have to decide if this technology is an example of French automotive engineering at its best...or worst. Any thoughts?

CJS/KRS