STYLISH
Off on a whim...
At Gap, invigorated and stopping to refuel for the first time in more than 250miles, the view of the countryside behind is breathtaking. And fifteen minutes later the first view of the Lac de Serre-Ponçon is enough to take the breath away again. I stand wide-eyed until the cold encourages me back into the Tigra's heated seats (my new favourite thing) to watching the last light sink over the lake in a dazzling, effervescent display.
At Embrun there's time for a brief detour into town then back towards the tiny village of Baratier and a first overnight stop. It's been a long drive, 625 miles, but I still feel fresh - and ever so slightly smug at what the Tigra and I have achieved.
There's a new destination for tomorrow, just a few miles up the road in the ski resort of Les Orres and another early start is on the cards. But the Tigra is honourably grubby with more than 600 miles worth of wintry road grime.
The auto-lavage (carwash to you and me) does its job well, and the Tigra emerges looking box-fresh. Its sporty lines are brilliantly conceived, perfectly proportioned with that petite rear end and charming face - and most of all there's that distinctive stance, poised on tiptoes, leaning forward and ready for action. With black bodywork, too, the silver roof bars and silver detailing jump out, like jewelry on your favourite little black dress.
The road up to Les Orres is a classic sequence
of Alpine switchbacks, but despite sub-zero temperatures the Tigra feels safe and secure. The Tigra gets many admiring glances in Les Orres.
It's effortlessly stylish, upretentious and undeniably chic - yet it's clear that the locals aren't quite sure what it is.
'Vaux-hall?' they enquire, studying the Griffin badge up close. But told that on the continent the brand is known as Opel, they reply with a smiling 'tres jolie!', leaving me with the warm feeling that I have the keys to something far more exotic than the Tigra's price tag suggests.
I could stay for days, but the lure of Saint Tropez is pretty powerful, too. It's another early start as I jump in the Tigra and head towards - the spectacular Gorges du Verdon. The further south we go, the warmer it gets. So it's warm enough to lower the folding roof, by unclipping two simple levers and hitting the button.
A few seconds later the soft light of a sunny Provence morning strikes the Tigra's leather seats - and it's like opening a box of sensory delights; everything I see, feel, hear and smell is magnified with the roof down, especially the cool scent of lavender.
The Tigra had already proved itself to be a fine travelling companion - swift and frugal on the autoroute,