Saturday evening. We have a date with friends and Pierrot has finally obtained his mother's slightly worried authorization. He runs down the indefinite staircase of the immaculate H.L.M., planted firmly in the mud of the suburbs, to meet up with the others. The others are older than him on the whole, but what they have in common is the desire for something to change, this weekend, and for things to get moving. This is especially true for those with scooters who, in close ranks, can scare pedestr...