Monsieur Raminet's Long Voyage

Daniel Rocher

Description

After a somewhat cloistered, morally upright existence and a life devoted to legal matters, Félix Raminet, at the age of 66, achieves a lifelong ambition in passing his driving test, and immediately embarks upon the ultimate quest for liberty, a 300km drive from Paris to the seaside town of Saint-Malo. His meeting with Jane, a generous, free-spirited, young American at a gas station will irremediably change the course of his existence.

Informations

• Publié par: Les Éditions du Net
• Date de parution: 13 février 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782312021003
• Langue: English

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Monsieur Raminet’s Long Voyage
Daniel Rocher
Monsieur Raminet’s Long Voyage



Translated from the French by Lynne Forest





LES ÉDITIONS DU NET 22, rue Édouard Nieuport 92150 Suresnes
By the same author


Transit, Gallimard, 1972
Le Chat qui voulait aller à Saint-Malo, éditions Ouest-France, 1992
La Trompette de Corentin , éditions Ouest-France, 1994
Le Voyage de Monsieur Raminet, Jean-Paul Rocher, 2000
Mauvais Rêve , Jean-Paul Rocher, 2001
Brins de Zinc , Jean-Paul Rocher, 2003
Tante Augustine , L’Atelier du Gué, 2004
L’Homme jetable , Jean-Paul Rocher, 2005
A qui parler , Jean-Paul Rocher, 2006
La Croisette s’amuse , Jean-Paul Rocher, 2011
Bribes de Plage , Les Editions du Net, 2013

Subsequent editions
Le Voyage de Monsieur Raminet, Le Serpent à Plumes, 2004
Brins de Zinc , Le Serpent à Plumes, 2007
Italian translation
Il Viaggio del Signor Raminet , Barbès Editore, Firenze, 2009









© Les Éditions du Net, 2014 ISBN: 978-2-312-02100-3
Contents
Contents
The Departure
The Halt
Angels
Another Angel
Conversation
A Demon
The Combat
The Next Lap
Memories
From Combourg To Saint­Malo
Dinner With The Bagots
The Nightclub
The Retirement Home
On The Ramparts
Loic De Trémigon
The Sailboard
An Evening At The Frachons’
Tardy Coitus
The Following Day
The Death Of Madame Villequier
The ‘Grand Be´’
The Departure
The Visit
A Succession Of Days
The ‘Grande Plage’
The Departure
His name was the one he had been given, that is to say Felix Raminet. Sixty-six years after his birth, he retired. Three days later, he could be found delivering a fiery speech to a garage-owner, whose functions also included those of petrol pump attendant and car salesman. The garage-owner was tall, bony, hairy, covered in axel-grease and weary. Monsieur Raminet was short, plump, bald, polished and excited. The garage-owner sported the remains of an extinguished, dark yellow cigarette at the corner of his mouth. Monsieur Raminet sported a pair of glasses on the end of his snub nose. Their frame was light in colour, like his eyes.
"What an ingenious contrivance!" he exclaimed. The garage-owner sighed. His eyes were wandering in every direction. They settled on his apprentice, who had remained in the background in order to procure greater enjoyment from the show, while having it out with a lump of tired chewing-gum. In the garage-owner’s eyes one could detect the same silent prayer a boxer addresses to his manager when he urgently desires to throw in the towel. But he apprentice merely formed a large, whitish bubble in reply, which he then popped with great satisfaction. The encounter between his boss and Monsieur Raminet had been going on for about an hour. Defying even the most reasonable of odds, the shorter of the two men had immediately got ahead, and since then had been consistently in the lead. Preventing the garage-owner from edging his way in, he had given him a consistently rough ride, punctuated by a shower of questions, each answer reviving his pitiless enthusiasm. Never before had a mass-produced vehicle been equally idolized. Each one of its features was the object of adoration. The most banal of options became a source of ecstasy.
"Really most ingenious!" Monsieur Raminet repeated.
"Yeah, it is very handy," the garage-owner groaned.
"So, in rainy weather, thanks to this wiper fixed on the rear window, one may reverse the car in conditions of security equivalent to those from which one benefits whilst moving forwards?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Most ingenious, and extremely useful. The driving school’s car was unfortunately lacking in that respect. Highly regrettable, deplorable in fact. I could have further practised the art of reversing, and thus have become familiar with that most delicate of all exercises, don’t you think?"
"Sure! Hey… Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
"But of course! Should it be in my power to provide you with an answer, I will do so, with an ardour that will be nothing less than the just repayment of the courtesy and kindness you have consistently shown towards me."
"Yeah… Just a minute. I only wanted to know how long you’ve had your driving licence for."
The shorter man smiled and removed his glasses (always a sign of emotion in Monsieur Raminet), wiped them with his pocket handkerchief, adjusted their position on his nose, and, staring straight into the garage-owner’s eyes, declared with legitimate pride, "I have been in possession of the said certificate since yesterday at 5-30 p. m."
"Ah, I see."
"I can imagine how astonished you must be, my friend, and I believe I discern the grounds for your query. You are surely wondering what reasons could have led a man of my age, which although not too advanced, is certainly mature, to embark on the adventure of motoring; what mysterious motives could have justified his putting in for the driving test, no doubt the last examination in his long career, what imperatives he could have followed in deciding to bear the financial burden represented by the acquisition and then the upkeep of a car, which, like this one, without strictly speaking being luxurious, presents the advantages of a decent degree of comfort, and the charm of an agreeable silhouette."
"Well…"
"To all these questions, which it is only natural that you should ask yourself, I will give you one answer, and one alone: free-dom!"
"Well, well, …"
"After more than forty years of public service, forty years of fixed timetables, forty years of marking – often nocturnal – and of homework, where, I don’t mind if I tell you, nonsense would often prevail over the pupils’general lack of culture, after what has basically been forty years of punctuality and rigour, I am sure you can imagine, my dear fellow, that one may be overcome by a wild, untamable desire for freedom?"
"Keep calm, sir!"
"I am extremely calm!"
But his eyes had clouded over, and he had to remove his glasses once again, and to take out his pocket handkerchief.
The garage-owner took advantage of this technical hitch to give voice to his preoccupations,
"I just wanted to tell you… – well, to be careful!"
Monsieur Raminet pulled himself up to his full height, which brought him up to his interlocutor’s shoulder.
"My friend, your concern is no doubt quite well-intentioned, but please banish any such misgivings from your thoughts! Allow me to inform you that unlike the driving test, I passed the highway code first time!"
"Ah, yes, that’s very good, I’ll give you that! But …"
"Therefore I am perfectly aware of both my obligations and my rights."
"I’m not questioning that. Only…"
"Well, what then?"
"It’s none of my business, but… may I ask you where you’re thinking of going?"
"To Saint-Malo!"
Monsieur. Raminet gave a rascally little laugh. The garage-owner screwed his eyes up. Monsieur Raminet screwed his up too. The apprentice started to masticate in slow motion. A customer, who had been filling up his car, had turned his head towards them, his hand still holding on to the hose from the pump which was stuck in his car.
They further challenged each other in this way for a handful of seconds, then it was Monsieur Raminet who rallied firmly,
"‘Why Saint-Malo? ’you are going to ask."
"No, I’m going to ask you if you’ll be taking the motorway or the secondary roads."
Monsieur Raminet lost countenance.
"Ah yes, indeed, the question is worthy of consideration. What would you advise?"
"I don’t know!"
The professional stared into Monsieur Raminet’s eyes, as if he hoped to read the answer to this somewhat tricky question there. However he merely found in the little man’s gaze an expression of anticipated gratitude for the advice he was about to receive, and so made a decision,
"If you want my own point of view, you won’t get into as many traffic jams on the motorway. And then it would probably be better for running it in."
"Now there’s the deciding element! The superior interest of the running in must take precedence over the pleasure of the journey!"
There was a heavy silence. The garage-owner lit up a cigarette, took a deep breath, sent off the smoke on a swift return journey, before brusquely expelling it through his nostrils with perfect symmetry. Then, to hide his emotion, like a father making a last recommendation to his son, blurted out in a surly voice: "The keys are on the starter. Have a safe journey! And don’t forget you’ve got ″ 90 ″ on your backside {1} !"
Monsieur Raminet gave a little sign of assent, then, to give himself courage, gave the car a little slap on the backside in question, which immediately caused him to blush from embarrassment. To make up for such unseemly behaviour, he opened the car door with great respect, in the same way one would lift a bride’s veil, and was greeted by that unmistakeable smell of newness which invariably betrays automobile virginity.
He sat down at the wheel, fastened his seatbelt, turned the key in the ignition, set