On initial inspection through the outskirts it seemed like a huge version of Burnie on Tasmania's north west, but industry gives way to class and history the closer you get to the water. It was on this coastal road that our little red hire car met it's demise... a large black Nissan Navara ploughed into the back of the car smashing the rear axle and spinning our car 360 degrees before coming to a stop on the median strip down the centre of the road.
Very shocked and shaken with some minor cuts and bruises we stepped out of the car fearing the wrath of a Frenchman who had crashed his car. To our delight he was very polite and spoke very good English. He helped us through the filling out of the incident report forms that French cars seem to all carry. We called Hertz and they organised a tow truck to come and collect our poor little car. The Navara was barely damaged just a dent in the bumper that would make any Navara owners very happy to see. Running over the crash in our heads we couldn't remember hearing the squeal of tires on the road of the ute trying to stop nor were there any black lines on the road explaining our injuries. A few bruises are now starting to appear.
The incident occurred only 100 metres or so from Le Petit Nice Passedat we decided to go ahead with our booking even though we were still a little shocked and very shaky. The rental company had organised a replacement car for us to pick up at the airport.
We gingerly lowered ourselves into a cab (a brand new Mercedes C class) and took off to the airport to collect our new car. The good news was that it had a turbo; the bad news was it was a Vauxhall Corsa (Holden Barina to Australians, beep beep yeah!) We headed home to bed hoping that our bodies would recover quickly.