Today was a beautiful day for a drive. After collecting some barrel staves from François Freres to use for my mini barrels I decided it was a nice day for a drive, to decompress.
My day started out with my old 80’s 3 series needing to be cranked for 20 seconds in order to start. Parking at the boulangerie in a steep parking spot I encountered the same difficulty starting. Going to the station service and getting gas I fought with the old car to get the latch on the fuel door (didn’t know it had one) to release and afterwards sat for an hour needing to let my flooding of the engine fix itself. Once it started I needed to give the obligatory tap on the dashboard thanking her for getting us back on track.
On my way to the cooperage, I was thinking about all of the time I ‘lost’. Heading over the hills toward Saint Romain, I peered over the Hautes Cotes down into Rochepot and couldn’t help but stop the car, get out, and admire the view. ‘Losing time’. How could I think like this when I have such beautiful things to look at and get lost in? Nope, today was bound to be a driving day. The car was now running quite well, the sun was coming out and the chill was losing it’s grip on the morning as the minutes slowly trotted by.
I had a few plans for the day. I was to drive to the Cote de Nuits to look for a possible home/cuverie/cave in the usual Ville Viticole. Driving through Chambolle-Musigny I saw a few places of interest before spotting this picturesque road into the chalk laced mountains above. I couldn’t resist. I had no idea where I was going and this made it all the more more entertaining.
Yellow, red and brick colored leaves were falling to the road while some leaves were waiting to be driven across. As I drove by, looking in the rear view, I watched the leaves blown up and falling as I moved along at a brisk clip. Times like this I don’t quite hate Mondays.
Arriving at the summit, I saw that the road led to Chamboef. There was a huge amount of space up there. Nothing but fallow land (beautiful soil with healthy amounts of chalky limestone was laying about) with a nice grass field of some type. It was remarkable but I was anxious to hit the switchbacks that I had just driven up once again. On the way down, I rolled the windows down, drove a bit slower, the lush forest smalled so fresh as I was driving through and suddenly none of the morning’s mayhem was of importance to me. With Miles Davis as the soundtrack to it all, it hit me.
I love this road, this cheap, finicky car is perfect. And at times, I absolutely love Mondays.