France usually, it seems, gets things about right: but not on the roads in high summer, says Lara Marlowe.
It's a rotten way to start a holiday, yet millions of French people sacrifice themselves to the yearly massing ritual, setting off towards the beaches of Normandy, Spain or the French Riviera, all of a Saturday morning.
By noon the temperature climbs to over 30 degrees. The air conditioning is on the blink and the upholstery sticks to your thighs. The kids are whining in the back about 'pipi' and hunger, and try to wriggle out of their safety belts.
You've just read France's new highway code, and are keeping an eye out for policemen in the hope of avoiding a raft of fines: €135 for each unfastened seat belt, €35 for eating a sandwich at the wheel, €35 for talking on the mobile.
Frédéric Péronny is already bracing himself for August 2nd, the blackest of 10 "black Saturdays" between June 28th and August 30th. Péronny is deputy director of the transport division of France's National Centre for Highway Information (CNIR), based at Rosny-sous-Bois, outside Paris. The CNIR employs 240 policemen, gendarmes and civil servants from the transport ministry to observe and report on conditions on highways nationwide.
"It will be hell," Péronny says of August 2nd, with an aggregate of 800 km of jams. The worst four will be the Rhône Valley, the route from Paris north to Normandy, and the roads south from Perpignan and Bayonne towards Spain. If you share the irrational, masochistic streak of the French, the CNIR urges you to take lots of water and stop at least every two hours.
A motorist making the classic French holiday journey from Paris to the Côte d'Azur on a "black Saturday" is certain to be caught in three major traffic jams: before Lyon, in the Rhône Valley and around Aix and Fréjus, as he approaches his destination.
The CNIR was founded in 1966, but its best known representative, a cartoon character American Indian known as "Bison Futé" ("Clever Bison") was born a decade later. "In August 1975, there was the worst traffic jam of all time," Péronny explains.
It was the height of the mass migration known as le chassé-croisé (literally: to-ing and fro-ing) when Juilletistes (those who take their annual holiday in July) cross paths with Aoûtistes (those who go in August). The road to Spain degenerated into 600 km of solid gridlock. "No one wanted to repeat that experience - neither the public nor the politicians. They had to do something," Mr Péronny says.
So in 1976, working with the State-owned radio station France-Inter, the CNIR launched Clever Bison, to inform the public of the traffic situation. Broadcasts are straightforward, for example, "Clever Bison says the périphérique is saturated. Avoid leaving Paris between 5 and 7 pm." Surveys show that 94 per cent of French people recognise Clever Bison's picture. Seventy per cent listen to his radio spots, and up to 15 per cent change their travel times or take different itineraries, in function of his advice.
With the 35-hour working week, fewer French people now take off for a whole month at a time. Instead, they take shorter and more frequent vacations. This spreads the traffic over the summer, but means a greater number of individual trips. The CNIR measures traffic by multiplying the total number of cars on France's 10,000 km of highway by the number of kilometres they travel in a day. The result: around 350 million car-kilometres on a quiet day, 450 million on a medium day and a whopping 800 million on a 'black Saturday'.
To make matters worse, the national character takes a turn for the worse behind the wheel. Half of summer admissions to Nice's hospitals are reportedly the result of altercations between drivers. In Paris, I've seen motorists speed through intersections against red lights, nearly mowing down pedestrians in the zebra crossing.
The Paris region, Péronny confirms, generates three-quarters of French traffic jams, and the permanently congested périphérique accounts for one quarter of France's embouteillages, all on its own. Mercifully, it is now possible to criss-cross the country without ever entering the capital's traffic web.
Fewer cars than the rest of the year is a bonus of visiting Paris between mid-July and the end of August. But pity the tourist who ventures into a major boulevard or intersection without knowing his way. He'll be welcomed by Parisian drivers with the subtlety of gladiators greeting Christians.