The Annual Ritual

It’s the day all men dread, well those of us who own our own cars – the MOT test. Called the Controle Technique in France, it’s a two-yearly inspection to ensure your car meets current safety and emission regulations. Despite only having to get it done every two years, with two cars in the family and their dates crossing, I find myself sitting in the Vence Auto Bilan every year waiting expectantly for the lady to call me to the counter to hopefully give me a new certificate.

It’s the nearest thing I’ve come across which is akin to having a baby – well not actually having a baby but being next door whilst the missus is in the delivery room. In the case of the nearest testing station (Vence Auto Bilan) they have a glass partition so you can see all the gory details, the guy putting on his gloves, sticking the emission tube up the exhaust pipe, scrutinizing all the dials, inspecting its underside with a powerful light and finally giving it a good shake to see if anything falls off.

And when it’s all done and dusted he comes into the waiting room and either shakes his head sympathetically or just goes straight to the counter and tells the lady to write out a certificate.

Yesterday morning when I arrived at the testing station I expected a bit of a rebuke because the test is 4 months overdue, primarily because the last time the Honda was tested, I got two fault warnings; one for a cracked windscreen and one for the reversing light not working, neither of which was serious enough to fail the test but needed to be fixed as soon as possible.

Neither was fixed of course, hence the delay in taking the Honda in and when the lady started keying the registration number into her computer screen, I waited anxiously for these past misdemeanors to appear in bright flashing red on her screen. If they did, I didn’t see them as I was ushered off to a seat in the waiting room.

Despite the Honda getting on in years (like it’s owner J), it’s still a good old runner (recently voted the most reliable 4X4) but despite that there’s always a chance they’ll find a screw loose or something trivial, but yesterday I felt lucky.

As I entered Tourrettes on my way into Vence, something told me to put my seat belt on, which was just as well because at the other side of the village there was a virtual road block of police checking for motorists using mobile phones and not wearing their seat belts. They looked ruefully as I passed slowly showing them I was ‘road legal’ but then I remembered the out of date MOT (which shows in your windscreen) and speeded up.

Anyway, my ‘lucky day’ continued. The Honda passed but this time I got 4 fault warnings, including the previous 2, plus what I think must’ve been an admonishment on the part of the young inspector presumably saying I really needed to fix these items, which is all a bit of a joke when you see some of the wrecks on French roads!