They Will Literally Put a Tow Hitch on Anything

Some cultures accessorize with roof racks.
France prefers tow hitches—and they apply them with a kind of democratic enthusiasm that borders on spiritual belief.

City cars. Microcars. The occasional Peugeot 106 that looks like it’s powered by hope, prayer, and the memory of gasoline. Doesn’t matter. Bolt a hitch on it and—boom—it’s a utility vehicle.

I once watched a Clio towing a trailer that appeared to weigh more than the car itself. I didn’t stay for the finale, but I assume it ended the way most French optimism does: calmly, confidently, and without any visible concern for physics.

Which brings us to this specimen.
Yes, that is a Suzuki Baleno.
Yes, it has a tow hitch.
No, I have no idea what it was pulling.

Possibly a boat.
Possibly a fridge.
Possibly its own ego.

In France, towing capacity isn’t a number—it’s a feeling.
And feelings, as we’ve learned, do a lot of heavy lifting here.

I’ve also seen the endgame.

A sedan on its side in the median.
A fifth-wheel trailer on its side a few hundred meters later.

Same trip. Same story.

Nobody screaming. No drama. Just hazard triangles, a few gendarmes, and the unmistakable feeling that at some point optimism exceeded torque.

I think about that every time I see a hitch bolted to a car the size of a carry-on.