Driving in Italy

Our Ford.

The next phase of the trip has begun. We are heading back about 2 hours south towards Rome to Fiumicino Airport to pick up the fourth and final member of our group, Linda Roos. On the way back we will stop at a couple places of interest: Civita di Bagno Regia, which is a crumbling medieval hilltown and birthplace of Saint Bonaventure and Orvieto, an ancient city dating back to the ninth century BCE.

We had picked up a Ford minivan in Rome. I had rented a car here back in 1989 and I noticed that not much has changed except for the increased traffic volume. Italy is still a nation of wannabe Andrettis and this is really evident in the cities where jostling for a better position is a manhood-challenging sport. The lines in the street are routinely ignored and the huge volumes directed down narrow passages are not unlike great pachinko games with clattering cars and tires thok-thok-thokking on cobbled roadways. Add to this large city buses that weave sinuously between curb and middle of the street and can stop suddenly with no regard to anything. Add to this huge tourist buses that lumber along like whales on steroids. Add to this the swarms of Vespas that fearlessly ply the narrow spaces between the bigger vehicles. Add to this fearless pedestrians distracted with cellphones or clueless tourists with their heads craned upwards at a nearby monument and you have a maddening, cacophonic, dangerous game of chicken that is not for the faint of heart.

A favorite sight: when the occasional red light crops up (Italians do obey traffic signals) you can watch the Vespas sheepishly creep out from behind the stopped cars and buses as they slowly form a motley row jostling position and toeing the line. When the light changes, there is a high-pitched roar and the insect swarm drives on.

Fortunately, by design, we will be avoiding large cities over the next week as we make forays to the hilltowns of Tuscany and Umbria and then head north to Italy’s breadbasket, Emilia-Romagna and the culinary centers of Bologna, Modena and Parma. The only difficulty we anticipate is deciphering the maddening Italian methodology of signposting, a cruel joke inflicted on even the most seasoned motorist.

Think Fast!