The trip ends with front-row seats at the Monaco Grand Prix.

Emilie Malcorps

Full disclosure: I am not exactly a car person.

But as a teen growing up in the suburban U.S., I learned quickly that cars equal freedom.

A red sports car speeding past lavender fields in Provence

The lavender fields of Provence are best seen from a Lamborghini.Credit:Emilie Malcorps

There were seven cars in total.

The itinerary was created by Australia-basedUltimate Driving Tours 15-year veterans of luxury driving experiences.

Early the next morning, the group was literally revving to go.

Pair of photos from Provence, France, including a yellow sports car in the mountains and a lineup of sports cars at a hotel

From left: Speeding through the mountains near Grasse on a supercar tour of the French Riviera; models from Ferrari, Audi, Lamborghini, Mercedes, and Aston Martin await Ultimate Driving Tours guests outside Château de la Gaude, in Aix-en-Provence.Emilie Malcorps

At first, I was tense and shivery behind the wheel.

The terrain was playing the part.

Shaded cedar forests flickered the light and threw off a cool, loamy scent.

View of the Monaco harbor

A view over the harbor from the hills of Monaco.Emilie Malcorps

Morning sunrays tumbled down the ravines.

On straight lengths of Roman-era road, the pavement wore the lacelike shadows of pollarded plane trees.

Occasionally, in the far-off distance, thunder threatened, crackling like vintage vinyl.

Pair of photos from Monaco during the Grand Prix, including a breakfast spread on a yacht and formula one cars on the Grand Prix circuit

From left: A yacht breakfast in Monaco during Grand Prix weekend; up close and personal on the Grand Prix circuit.Emilie Malcorps

I was paired with another solo traveler, and we took turns behind the wheel.

By the second day of driving, it was tops down and stereos up.

It was as if Peter Mayle had penned the script for the next installment of theFast & Furiousfranchise.

Sort of wrong andun peu vulgaire but terrifically fun.

It was a dramatic vibe shift.

Ill remember this fantasy weekend in hallucinatory snatches: Race cars cornering the hairpin of La Rascasse.

Spilled espresso martini, licked off my knuckles.

The ornate wedding cake that was Monte Carlo coming alight in the blue wash of May twilight.

I felt accomplished and fabulously exhausted by the end.

After the long days of driving, my palms ached from clinging to the carbon-fiber steering wheels.