Couleur Locale

On our way home from daycare, I try to make sure the Little Bit doesn't get overrun by a car that's, I believe, turning into a garage. LB is wickedly tired, but refuses to get into the stroller. So she trots all the way home alongside me, not really noticing the big four wheeled beasts out to get her.
This beast does not turn into his garage, but asks for directions instead. "Gare du Nord, please?" I'm thinking aloud, wondering which route would be the shortest or easiest. My eyes wander away from the driver's face to suddenly notice his upright dick on full display. As straight faced as possible I end my explanation.
"There's no denying why he needed directions to Gare du Nord," I tell LB when the car's out of view.