The place where we live, in the south of France, has a large room on the ground level.

However, it was not necessarily a garage.

Until the other day, when we slowly backed a dinky Toyota into a space that offers no more than 10 inches of extra room.

Ta-da! Our place has a garage, after all!

The first two cars we drove in France were essentially leased. Each for three months. It made them markedly cheaper than a day-to-day rental, as well as markedly less expensive than buying something new. Or used, even.

But neither of those slightly up-market cars would fit in the narrow passage from the street into the wider spaces of the bottom floor — making it not-yet-a-garage.

Last June, we bought a 2005 Toyota Yaris from other expats, and when the sale of the apartment went through and we got access to whatever that bottom floor was, we eyeballed the Yaris and looked at the narrow places on the first 20 feet leading to the street and thought … nah!

And that was that, for several months.

The little car sat on the street, pelted by rain, cooked by summer sun, strafed by hateful pigeons, and we had something not-quite-a-garage under the main floor of the apartment.

An underutilized space, certainly.

For much of that time, the non-garage had things we had shipped from the States without actually unpacking. The passage also was blocked by shipping materials, too.

Then, the other day, after getting most of the clutter out of the way, we decided to examine this situation again, I got out the tape measure, folded in the side mirror on each side of the Toyota and took a look at the car’s width.

I walked over to the opening stretch of the not-garage and stretched out the tape measure across the narrowest spots.

It looked like it might fit. Just.

A day or two later, we tried it. Carefully. Going in nose first.

The dips in the street’s narrow pavement, one to carry away rain water, the other the threshold of the not-garage, made for some awkward surges.

But it fit. With maybe 10 inches to spare.

However, backing the thing out … was difficult. It included a part where the front wheels finally came out of a gutter, while backing up, and the car picked up speed — and smacked into the ancient stone wall across the street from us.

Sigh. Another ding in the battered Yaris.

Then we thought … “next time, let’s back it in and drive it out!”

So, slowly, slowly, slowly … backing in … “no, a bit left … no, your other left … OK, stop!”

And there it was. Success. (Pictured, above, with the plate obscured, in a slightly wider part of the passageway.)

It is snug, absolutely. I got too close to the wall on the driver’s side and had to climb out, over the stick shift and out the passenger door.

But it is an option! Especially when we think we won’t be using the car for two or three days.

As long as we don’t drive something any wider than a Yaris, the basement/lower floor … can now be accurately called a garage. A French word, by the way.