Near Ferrara, Italy - Sunday, June 13
Location: SITTING ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

John:  Well, this may not be the most appropriate time to make a comment... well, I guess it is actually.  I'm in, you see, this predicament. 

Let me back up before I lose my train of thought... we were riding to, the destination of the day, I guess Ferrera, Italy... from Venice.  It's actually only about two miles ahead now.  It had been a pleasant riding day... for awhile...  but, we didn't know the weather report, as they curiously only speak Italian on the radio here, we rode into what now, as I look around, looks like... a hurricane.  It is pouring as if I'm underneath a waterfall.  I've never seen it rain so hard.

Excuse my rambling, but I'm rather unfocused.  As the cars continue to zoom by, I sit aside the road here, on the ground... and am now grinning because I sit here in the dirt soaking wet.  On top of that, I've lost Dick, and am trying to repair a tire that just went flat.  Fixing flats in the rain.  So, in summary, we were riding, a huge storm hit, my tire then went flat, Dick went ahead while I worked on my tire, then my only replacement tire went flat, so I need to fix it with a rubber patch and glue... in the pouring rain. 

There's still some lightning.  I mean this is a... well, it's a hurricane.  It seems like it, anyway. When the rain started, we were trying to put on the speed and motor ahead, and not get run over by the cars, into town... to escape the rain. But, the rain kept getting harder and harder.  Now, it's raining so hard that it's hurting my skin.  Pounding.  Some of the cars have pulled to the side of the road to wait out the storm.  The others are going to run me over and kill me.  I'm sure I'm pretty much invisible to them.

So, we are hoping there is a hotel in town.  We were making good time, zipping towards town, and then I got this flat tire.  We would have made it otherwise. Since I was then damaged goods, I told Dick to go ahead and I'd meet him in Ferrara.  But now, as I recall we didn't arrange where to meet. I was cursing at the time. So, Dick went off.

Meanwhile, after I thought I fixed the tire, I jumped on the bike and it immediately went flat again.  Can you believe that.  Now, there is no hope other than walking my bike for two miles to town. ...Hey... that lightning blew up right there.  I've got to get out of here. This is just too ridiculous. This is such a desperate situation, I can't do anything but grin.  It's just... wait... Dick!  What happened.  Where's your bike?  

Dick: I started riding to town but I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere near.  So, I went to knock on the door of that farmhouse there.  I think it's a farmhouse.

Where?

Dick: See right up there on the left.  I think it's deserted.  No one answered.  I pulled my bike around back and inside.

John:  Really?  Inside?  You think we can go in?

Dick: I was just inside.

John:  Wow... I can't believe it.

Dick: I went walking around. There's a room upstairs with some wire cots I think we can use.

John:  Really?

Dick: There are some type of ancient hippy-era drawings on the walls. I think it used to be a crash pad.

John:  Dick, you're my savior.

Dick: Well, I try.

John:  This is great.... I can wring out now!

* * * *

Bologna, Italy
Location: AT THE HOTEL

John:  We're staying at a pensione here in Bologna.  The town is distinctive, dominated by two very big towers.  The story goes that two rival families each built their own tower. The family with the biggest tower then became the most proud family.  So, due to the competition, the towers are quite large as they stand side by side in the center of town.  But, now... they're both a little crooked.  If the families could only see them now, so crooked, their pride would suffer. 

Also of note, Bologna's sidewalks are covered by arches, porticos on every street.  There are supposed to be the most arches of anywhere in the world, according to Dick's legend.  It makes the streets look extra narrow.

Dick: I didn't make that up.

John:  Well, where did you hear that?

Dick: It was in that brochure at the tourist office.

John:  Oh, propaganda from the tourist office. Also, Bologna has the most restaurants... well, 432 at last count. ...Ooh, there it is.  Dick has pulled out proof.  Okay, you're right. There's a picture of the arches. It says here, "Bologna is the town with the most porticos in the whole world." You win Dick.

So, you think out of those 432 restaurants that they might have one Chinese one?

Dick: No.

John:  Me neither.
 

* * * *

Tuesday, June 15
Location:  WHILE RIDING

John:  Whew... Well, riding here... we're in the middle of the Apennines Mountains now... climbing up our very first European mountain pass.  Hoping for the top soon, it's been a grind.  There were... a couple of false summits.  We thought we were done.  Some very, very steep climbs.  We must be very near the top... it looks... getting a little steeper as we go.  I was getting quite pissed off at all the climbing until we stopped for beer.  I had two actually and Dick had cappuccino, of course.  In the heat of the afternoon... he's an addict, you know.

This mountain riding is no fun... no fun at all.  If this wasn't the only way to get from Bologna to Florence, I would just say... screw it.

It's only about 60 miles or so... but, actually... there are two passes today... and there's a beautiful view to the left.  Strangely, it's more populated up in the mountains than in the flatland... probably because it's cooler.  And luckily, there are a lot of bars along the way. Rest stops, each of them.

The Apennines are very solid rocky type of mountains.  Not sharply peaked.  What do you think, Dick, do you think we're near the top?

Dick: I think we're headed down actually.

John:  Dick gives a yes, as we continue to climb.

Dick: I think we're just kind of going along the ridge right now. Eventually we'll be headed down.

John:  And wait... yeah... we're at the top.

Dick: Yeah, that's the one.

John:  They always have a sign at the top of a pass. The name of the pass is... wait, let me look at the sign.  Where is the sign?   "Passe Bella Passacosa", 968 meters.  It's downhill in both directions.  Good time to stop.

Dick, over there, is so elated... Dick?   He thinks this is the second of the two passes.  Little does he know... Dick?   As I look at my map, Passe Bella Passacosa, is only the first one.   Dick, we still have another to do. Another pass.

Dick: You have got to be kidding. Let me see that map. Well, that just sucks.  

John:  But it's downhill from here, for a while anyway.  The other pass is... it's over there, ay Dick?

Dick: Yes. It's directly in front of us. I see it now.  This hasn't been an easy day.

Fiosole, Italy - LATER THAT DAY
Location:  CAMPING

John:  What a day!  There were more hills.  I couldn't believe it was uphill even after the second pass.

Dick: It sucked.

John:  We were pulled along by signs to "Camping".   Finally, there was a turn off to the left.  Steepest hill I've ever gone down and we were happy to be almost there, assuming the campground was at the bottom of the valley. But the signs continued in the valley, and we followed them... right back up the other valley wall.  So steep, we had to walk the bikes up.

But that wasn't all.  We turned off to the campground.   Up more still... it was a 16% grade.  Another turnoff to the campground.   Up still more... an 18% grade.   And here we are at the campground, "Camping Panoramica".  High atop a mountain.  But at any rate, look, a panoramic view of Florence. See the cathedral?

So, on the day. Our longest day yet.  We hit a record maximum speed.... 35 miles per hour.  That far surpasses our previous high.

Dick: It was a rush.

John:  Yeah, it was. It was a thrill going down that thing.  After we went over that pass, we went down for hours.  But, right now, we deserve a good meal.  And clean clothes, Dick has spread his rinsed out clothing to dry on his bicycle. 

Dick: Makes you almost feel like you're in Italy.  Biting on a bit of cheese.  Cooking pasta and drinking this "Chianti Classico", air drying clothes... all the pleasures of home.  There's a great view of Brunelleschi's dome down there on the Cathedral. What more could you ask for?