In Jussy-le-Chaudrier, a bearded man in the Bar’Bus

A bar + a bus = a Bar’Bus! You will not find this addition anywhere in a textbook or in a quantum physical work or even less in a booklet on cosmology. This is Sébastien Cherrier’s exclusive formula, as E = MC2 is always for Einstein.

Either you pronounce Bar’Bus “s” and you discover the life of Henri Barbusse, writer, politician, screenwriter and French journalist, born 17 May 1873 in Asnières and died 30 August 1935 in Moscow. Which will be of no use to you for the trip things will take if you go to the end of this article.

Either if you do not pronounce “s” and the thickness of the facial hair on Sébastien Cherrier, you quickly realize that a bearded man in the Bar’Bus is definitely not a discrepancy or a dirty trick that you want to play your treacherous imagination. He’s as tattooed as a cartoon. Even his skull, polished by its brutal escape from its capillarity, did not escape the compulsive ink of a draftsman on the skin.

The insane success of a rusty ballast truck

But tell me, Sébastien, your head tells me something, right? Wait for me to apply … Yes, of course. He is the man from the ballast truck, the inventor of the traveling bistro that goes from village to village, where drinking places, natural drinking troughs and weavers of social ties for people, are gradually closed.

Desire for nomadism

Sébastien’s face first traveled in the local press before taking the path of the national and international press! Of course, we know these traits of nightclub tossers and marshmallows. He likes skulls, but prefers the warmth of people a billion times more than the incompetence of social networks. He wanted to sell his soul for a drink at the expense of a Facebook live, even if it was to film the moon falling on his pumps.

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In Jussy-le-Chaudrier, this former teacher, who became a traveling tenant, has taken root since March last year, a revolutionary concept: a bar in a bus, a real bus, ready to restart one day, if necessary, parked in the parking lot at the socio-cultural center.

Damn, what a great idea! The municipality has invested in the purchase of the bus. Sébastien took care of the decor. Not mad at the mayor, Jean-François Pasqué. He quickly understood the genius behind this idea: to find a bistro while offering his constituents and all the other lambs from the neighboring herds a completely unique place. Come to us, the orphans of the counter, the forgotten of the license, the dying of thirst for coziness.

Let us be reassured, his desire for lemonade nomadism still teases him: his bar truck continues to cross the territories left by the Bistro Republic, with a golden rule. As soon as a bistro reopens in a city where he walks, he no longer walks there. issues of loyalty.

In Jussy-le-Chaudrier, his need for sedentary made him set foot on the ground, in this unusual pied-à-terre: a former book mobile on the bedding, transformed into a crazy cocoon of well-being, with red benches, small tables and a infinity of details that will make you come back in the absence of being able to embrace everything the first time.

Should you be a little, crazy, very, passionate, to hold on to twenty-five, shoulder to shoulder, sometimes a little more, for the unique pleasure of sharing a drink in the wake of Fridays because Friday, the Bar’Bus closes at midnight. There are even concerts often, so much the more reason to stay. We never realize enough the need for a bistro for our earthly brothers and our human sisters.

Some regret them, others rejoice in owning one last … we tell you all about the 430 bistros in Cher [carte]

This sweet madness runs through the veins of this entrepreneur like the coffee he distills in cups. To mock the ambient modernity that has the younger generations stuck in front of hypnotic screens, it serves its customers, in addition to accessories to quench their thirst, VHS cassettes with a video recorder. Yes, a VCR! As well as board games. Television is basically in a frame, like a work that is more aesthetic than usable. “Here, I was fine,” says the man, inked and anchored to the counter of his Bar’Bus as the Big-Bang at the creation of the universe.

human pasta

It opens every morning at

and thus delights a clientele made up of this mix of genres that gives this place its reason to exist. For everything is based on this human dough, which Sébastien kneads with the baker’s know-how. Moreover, it is no coincidence that he also leaves bread.

His taste for vintage runs down the space of the place, everything is odds and ends. A grocery fund fund precedes some dough and oil needs. Children draw pictures for him, dress him up with little cute names, locals leave him with vegetables, others with items useful for decoration.

As for the toilets, a big topic, it holds the keys to the Assembly House for those who need it. Inside, relaxed, the space is generous. Outside, a terrace takes its calm, under the morning sun in July. The perfect place for a coffee away from speed, pastime, bustle, uncertainty.

Sébastien Cherrier is a zinc poet who puts the world at the counter to see how it turns. The ancients do not err if their gaze falls on a familiar object, an object from earlier times stranded on the edge of our time. One way to reject fate: to grow old, also to think that all hope is lost when the last café in the village turns off the lights and condemns the evening to silence. Like what, the light can be turned on again, using conviction.

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