All cars registered in countries in the European Union have a similar number combination on their number plates.
They usually have a blue section on the left, with the EU circle of yellow stars and a letter to indicate the country. So for France, there is an “F”, Germany is “D” (Deutschland), I is for Italy etc.
Then, the last 2 numbers on the French number plate signifies which region you come from (the number is also part of the postcode). So its 75 for Paris, 06 for Nice etc
Ok, its not much. But I find it really fun to check out all the number plates when we’re on the road, working out what country they’re from, whether they’re from the French countryside and just visiting Paris, why they might be here etc. I’m sure it must be a game that French kids play on long drives, but hey, I guess I’m entitled to be a kid sometimes too?
The number plates have a completely different usage for the French. Number plates are there so that you can abuse people more appropriately. They allow you to tailor your abuse in a way that is more specific and therefore, more cutting.
So if you have a number plate ‘”75″, then you are a posh “bourgeois” with your nose stuck up your bum and you think you own the road with your BMW 4-wheel drive as you squeeze down Paris’s tiny cobbled streets. These people should all go back to their mansions in the 16th arrondissment and stay there.
If you have a numberplate “06″ (Nice, in the south of France), they what the heck do you think you’re doing in Paris? Go back to your little country town where people drive at 35km/ph and slow down to admire the shop windows.
If you have a “B” for Belgium, you definitely dont know how to drive, you probably only have half a brain, you could possibly start driving on the wrong side of the road at any moment, and therefore one must accelerate wildly to avoid “un Belge” at all costs.
If you have “GB” (Great Britain), then the French will take great pride in sneering and telling the “rosbif” to go back to their own country. (Note: “Rosbif” is the word “roast beef” spoken with a French accent, a traditional English food and also the colour that the English go when burning themselves in the sunny South of France).
Now, how would I know all this? That’s right, I’ve spent many an hour in the car with M, his aunt, and my friend Fred, listening to the tirade of abuse hurled at unsuspecting tourists and locals alike.
Road rage is a French national sport, and thanks to number plates, it makes the game all the more interesting!