“One Night in Paris” sounds like the title of a great romance novel, or maybe an exciting WW II spy novel (those are my favorite reads). No, this is just an account of my one and only trip to that great city back in 1963. To further diminish your expectations, this is the car that I drove there, a beat up Renault. Note the improvised hood lock.

Here’s the story: “The car I bought over Mick’s objections was a four-door Renault of uncertain vintage. It had a water-cooled rear engine, and it ran. A friend asked me for a ride to the air base one day, and I was happy to oblige. Wheels and freedom, that’s all that mattered. On the way, I glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed flames coming out of the engine compartment. I calmly said to my friend, “I’m going to pull off onto the shoulder and stop the car. As soon as we’re stopped, grab your gear, get out, and run that way,” pointing out the windshield. We both ran, but as soon as the motor was stopped, the flames died. I got a tow to the air base and found a loose fuel line. I fixed it, and, except for a lingering burnt odor, the car was fine. Which was a good thing because it allowed us to go to Paris.

Two of our buddies were going home for Christmas and they asked if Mick and I would drive them. I think they even paid us. So we packed up some cold fried chicken from the mess hall and set off early in the morning for Paris. About four hours later, we arrived at Orly airport and accompanied our friends into the terminal to see them off.

Then we boarded a bus that would take us into that great city. The Champs-Elysees was all lit up for Christmas and a light snow was falling. It was magical. We walked and gaped and took a lot of pictures.

Thanks to the United Service Organizations (USO), we found a clean, cheap hotel, the Hotel Dahlia’s on Rue Des Acacias. We bought a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread and feasted in our room on bread, cold chicken, and wine.

The next morning we rose and breakfasted on fresh bakery and strong coffee. Then we walked up that magnificent boulevard to the Arc de Triomphe and saw the eternal flame. Because my tour of duty was almost up, I had already shipped most of my personal civilian clothes home, which left me with sort of a ragtag outfit. Mick took a picture of me looking cold and a little lost there at the base of the arch.”

Excerpt From: Robert Frohlich. “Aimless Life, Awesome God.” Apple Books. https://books.apple.com/us/book/aimless-life-awesome-god/id1129891739

That day in Paris, I never thought it would become such a lasting memory. It marked the beginning of my transition back to civilian life That cold and clueless young man from Queens, New York sitting at the base of the Arc had no idea what God had in store for him. Yet here I am, alive and well in Wisconsin, soon to celebrate our 55th wedding anniversary with my Iowa-born wife. God is good.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”

Jeremiah 29:11 ESV”