It has been a roller coaster of emotion for me, being in the place where I started out my life's journey and finding out that indeed, as the poet put it, "The past is another country; they do things differently there." Last eyar I made my first trip back to my roots in a quarter century. This time my sisters and friends were prepared for my return and I have spent a lot of time talking about te bad old days, what there was of good about them, and how glad I am to be bale to go back with a serene and open mind. I was depserately unhappy as a child growing up in a family that didn't much want me after my mother died, so my decision to disapper caused some to realise that I really meant it when I said I was out of there.
the good news is that all this good cheer means I may well choose to come back next year, perhaps fo a longer visit, which means I get to ride these mountain roads again, and that is pure pleasure. I have had some sunny weather and the green flowing hillsof Umbria are quite spectatcular and its unfortunate this computer ( which sucks by the way) doesn't allow picture download because the scenery is gorgeous and deserves to be seen. The roads are a mixed bag, some smooth as billiard tables and some, too many, as rutted as a Siberian track in the Spring melt. Public works do not get the attention they deserve in Italy, any more than they do elsewhere.
Riding a motorcycle in Italy is a whole other world. Unlike in the US where passing is viewed as an affront to one's machismo (among men and women drivers I might add) in Italy someone riding a powerful motorcycle gets a measure of deference which is sometimes embarrassing as I am not alwyas ready to ride the beast as hard as it will go. Sometimes a man riding a 170hp motorcycle wants to just tootle along an see the sights and that confuses passing motorists as they expect me to drive aggressively.
Then there are the occasions when I do just that and on this K1200R BMW I have discovered that when the dealer told me it goes from zero to sixty in less than two and a half seconds he wasn't exaggerating for effect On this motorcycle a slow moving truck is a blur in the mirrors and the BMW needs but fifty feet to pass a 35 foot truck. It's like flying while clutching a ballerina by the waist and being led through aerial pirouettes with no effort at all. I think about leaning and the BMW says "No problem!" and its done. I ough the brakes the motorcyle slows effortlessly and under perfect control. I go into a tight turn in the wrong gear and change down suddely and with a little sideways hope the BMW says "No Problem!" and off we go again, swooping in an endles spas-de-deux through the mountains. It is quite amazing.
I took a short cut down a stretch of freeway to find my wife's favorite pottery shop in Deruta to order some plates for her collection and I was wondering why th traffic was going so slowly. I thought i was around the limit of 80mph (130kph) possibly a little more. I glanced at the speedo to find to my horror I was cruisng smoothly at 200kph (125 miles per hour)...Of course the damage was done and when I got down to a proper 80 miles per hour I felt like i was ambling at a slow walk and the ride got suddenly very boring. I was just glad Irondad wasn't there to witness my reckless fecklessness, when I snuck up on the 200 kph mark another couple of times just to..make sure I really had hit the mark! I was getting a taste for it I fear.
Its te best of all worlds, I get to see my old home, I get to ride through one of the most romantic and bautiful and least known regions of italy and I speak the language too. Best of all I have the Florida Keys to come home to, where i will ride sedately at 65 in a 55mph zone and I wil enjoy the views and the water and the warmth and my very enjoyablelife. The best of all worlds, Umbrian by birth, Conch by choice.
Photos of course to follow, when I get home.
