Antonio Andretti!

I kid you not, when we were taxied from the Rome airport to our apartment, I was very happy to know that I was not driving….and thought to myself “there is no way am I doing this….I want to live!”  So to say the very least, I was NOT too happy about having to drive in Italy.  I think the driving rules are more or less guidelines (same with the street lines) rather than actual rules…the only rule is don’t hit anyone or anything, but even that might be a guideline….but I wasn’t willing to find out.  So with my family firmly fastened into the “green turtle” (aptly nicknamed by Ry) we headed out of the parking garage.

I don’t exactly know what happened next but the next thing I knew I was flying through Florence my heart racing a million beats a minute, driving like a local, I think I broke every American traffic rule within the first 5 minutes of driving  – my beautiful and skilled navigator holding her breath for unknown minutes (straight), my children not sure whether to squeal with excitement or cry from fear.  Mom and Dad G. were dead silent, I think in constant prayer that we would survive the next moment or maybe frozen with fear, probably in reality both.  I would zip in and out of cars, changing lanes, squeeze through the tightest openings, dogging motorcycles, busses and people as I weaved our way out of town, finally what felt like an eternity we hit the “open” road.  That’s also somewhat relative; the streets are super narrow, buildings, stores, and people feet from the edge of the road.  It’s just the amount of traffic is manageable, but now, I’ve got to dodge, bicyclists, more motorcycles and parked cars….oh how I wished for that Ferrari, these roads certainly reminded me of a video game!

Not too far from Dicomano (where we were staying), I got pulled over….I got “flagged” I figured it’s about time someone noticed the American idiot driving (I think secretly hoping he would take me to jail and relieve me of this insanity).  I rolled the window down and the officer said something in Italian, I responded in English, the next thing we heard was something between “oh man” and “why me” come out as a grunt from the officer.  Dejected he preceded to ask me more stuff in Italian and again I responded in English….I offered him my passport, the paperwork for the car and finally, I just handed him everything in the glove box until he found what he wanted.  After a bit of waiting, he just waved me on without another word.

We arrived at the farm house with a glorious sigh of relief – I think I saw (and heard) our legion of guardian angels fall over from exhaustion.