BELGIUM — This past Sunday I found myself standing outside my house at 7:30 in the morning, wearing a jacket and winter hat against the morning chill. I was waiting for my Rotary counselor's husband to take me to a vintage car rally organized by my host club. I was exhausted after a day of kayaking in the south of Belgium, and wanted nothing more than to climb back into my warm bed, sleep until noon, then drink tea and read for the rest of the day. However, an important lesson was soon driven home to me: Good things happen when you wake up early.

Ari Snider is a high school junior from Belfast studying abroad in Belgium through Rotary International. He currently lives with a host family in Waterloo, not far from Brussels. His discoveries and adventures abroad have been the subject of his blog Belfast/Belgique, which he has graciously allowed us to post here.

Pierre and his 14 year-old daughter, Manon, arrived shortly to pick me up, snapping me out of my somnolent trance. The meeting point for the car rally was a grand brick building reminiscent of a British country estate, but set awkwardly in an office park. After downing two chocolate croissants, I went outside with Manon to watch the cars arrive.

I am not exactly a car-enthusiast, but I recognize a classic when I see one, or many. We found Bentleys, Jaguars, Bugattis, MGs, Fiats, Porsches, Mercedes-Benzes, Ferraris, and more, all glinting in the clear morning sun. I am also not exactly a photographer, but the cars were beautiful and the light was good, so I started snapping away. The host parents of Fernando, the other exchange student in the Waterloo Rotary Club with me, came up to me while I was taking pictures and said I could ride in the rally with them if I wanted to. I said that I would love to. Minutes later I was situated comfortably in the back seat of Bruno and Cécile's red, roofless '65 Triumph Vitesse.

There was not enough legroom for me to sit facing forward, so I sat reclining with my back against one side of the car and my legs stretched out across the leather bench seat. I was once again thankful for my windbreaker and winter hat as the wind whipped around me as we zipped along. We cruised along wide, modern roads before dipping through small towns on twisting cobblestone streets. It was fantastic, bouncing along in the back seat as we passed one idyllic scene after another. I was the dog hanging its head out the window of the car, filled with the simple joy of movement.

Then the engine broke down.

We were rattling up a single-track dirt road between two fallow fields when the car yelped, grunted, and then went silent. Bruno rattled off an impressive list of French curses announcing that it was time to push. We rolled the sputtering Triumph to the top of the small incline, where Bruno steered it off to the side and popped the hood and began cursing anew as he tried to coax the engine back to life. We had been in a small procession of cars, and within minutes a small crowd of vintage autos had gathered around us. Struck by the beautiful spontaneity of the scene, a cluster of classic sports cars parked between fallow fields as their owners crowded around our little Triumph, I set off into the fields and started snapping photos.

Luckily, we were on the road again soon.  It was a clear, cloudless day and the countryside shone in the brilliant sunshine. A gorgeous, open-top Bentley chugged along behind us as we dipped through small, sleepy villages and shot across rolling fields of gold. The sun rose higher in the sky and the wind soon shed its morning chill. I relaxed further into my leather seat, content to watch the landscape slide past.