The Human Essence

       While traveling through France and the Benelux countries, I rented a car from Paris Orly Airport. For two weeks, a diesel-powered Opel—courtesy of Enterprise—became my trusted companion as I explored the rich history and landscapes of Flanders, Luxembourg, and northeastern France. When my journey ended, I returned the car to Enterprise, appreciative of its smooth performance and reliable German engineering.

       Outside the Enterprise office, I observed a lean Frenchman darting between vehicles, assisting new customers and explaining lease terms. He showed little urgency in inspecting my car for scratches or checking its fuel levels—understandable, given that I had prepaid for those services. His focus was on incoming clients rather than those finishing their rentals, prioritizing potential business over routine returns.

       But enough about him—let’s talk about the scene around us.

       The multi-level concrete parking garage, shared by numerous rental companies, was a whirlwind of movement. Travelers dragged suitcases, shouldered bags, and loaded or unloaded luggage with varying degrees of efficiency. Some vehicles had children buckled into back seats, while an interesting observation stood out—nearly half the drivers were women. The entire lot buzzed with a restless energy, a mixture of arrivals and departures creating a subtle air of urgency. To mitigate accidents, speed bumps had been strategically placed every ten meters.

       In theory, this was a sensible safety measure. In practice, it was useless.

       People tend to treat only what they own with true care, and rental cars rarely make that list. As a result, travelers from all corners of the globe tore through the parking structure, paying little heed to the "sleeping policemen" beneath their wheels. The speed bumps barely registered as obstacles. Engines revved, tires thudded over the humps, and the very ground beneath my feet seemed to tremble under the weight of their indifference.