Thousands of miles of open road, hundreds of interstates, highways, ten times as many thoroughfares.
Superhighways leading to fantasy destinations, with their identical and asepticized rest stops.
The sun and it’s reflection on the windshield, the breeze coming in the open windows, the glove compartment filled with limitless possibilities.
The starting point of the Gentlemen Drivers is somewhere in the suburbs of a large French city.
Their destination is somewhere in the United Sates.
Between the two, the endless white line, scalding asphalt that melts the horizon, Steve McQueen, Route 66, a French Route Nationale, American imagery with a French feel…
Two continents, a multitude of states, four time zones.

The road to L.A on a “Route Nationale” could take 32 years.
The Gentlemen Drivers have decided to go a lot faster, with their euphoric productions imbued with flying synthesizers, and crystalline electronic melodies.
Perpetual motion leading from the hazy mornings of a French suburb to the brilliant sunshine of a fantasized Los Angeles.
There is one very real first stop, the rest area fast food joint that’s neither the starting point nor the destination.
The highway exit surrounded by pine trees.
The arbitrary shape of the patches of color that stream cross the windshield in the rain, headlights crossing, unexpected encounters (Beat Her with Soko).
And the arrival at the destination, timeless and dreamlike (2042 L.A. Dreams).
On the car stereo, the futurist California Dreamin’ of Mica and Benoit.
In the rear view mirror, no one.