More driving adventures in Italy

The spectacular view from the hotel room in Montepulciano was gone this morning, replaced by fog and lowering clouds that delivered rain by the end of breakfast.  We schlepped our bags to the car in a healthy rain and visited some more with Susanna Crociani. My blue blazer smelled like wet dog when I got behind the wheel, turned on the Avis GPS (we call this English voice Pippa Longbottom -- Ken's creation) and began to follow Pippa's instructions. 

Funny story.  Pippa told me to go left, then seemed to change her mind when it was too late to stop.  Meanwhile I'm going downhill at a 45 degree angle, slipping on the wet stone pavement.  I have to back up and keep the clutch engaged as I attempt to slide uphil.  The space is narrow.  The wet stone walls all look alike in the mirrors and at unknown distances.  Smoke issues from the wheels or from under the hood, it's hard to tell.  The stench mounts.  I get the car back into the midget intersection I had left some minutes before.  The amount of smoke is vast and the stink sullies the gentle air of Montepulciano.  The car cuts off and will not start again.  German tourists look mournfully at this suffering VW Passat station wagon, shaking their heads, making Kaputt signals. An Italian trying to drive down the hill displays a kind of ill-humored patience. 

I sit there for a minute as my traveling companions consider calling Avis.  Oh great, we could be in this position for hours, the object of scorn and scant pity.  I fear no one would let us in to pee.  We'd be pariahs. I fear someone would smash the windows if we went for a coffee during the wait.

I'm stubborn.  I'm easily embarrassed in public.  I wait for the smoke to clear, literally, and I press the key into the snazzy new-fangled ignition slot.  The engine starts. The clutch works -- clutch plate OK.  I can shift.  We can go.  We drive away stressed and wind for hours of foggy-road fun on twisty roads up to 2000-2500 feet in a sylvan zone that looks like New England, no vines, no olives, but with pheasants, deer, chestnut groves and the woodland wild.

Now we're in the rainy Maremma, an area I like more than I thought I would.  We're staying a day and a half with good old Gianpaolo Paglia of Poggio Argentiera.  More later. 

Comments

[gianpaolo]

i'm looking forward to get acquainted with Pippa Longbottom!