Monday, July 25, 2011

Riding Le Marche

You've heard of Tuscany which is much larger and more varied than my native Umbria which in turn is better known than the region to the northeast of Umbria along the Adriatic coast. That would be the mountainous and relatively isolated region known in English as The Marches, translated from the Italian Le Marche (pro: mar-Kay).

Mountainous yes, but also lots of rolling hills, agriculture and beautiful views. There is also some excellent riding on rolling hill roads. I loved the 1200 ST on these sweeping roads and Giovanni remarked on my perfect lines through the turns. It was really excellent riding.

We had to get the paper GPS out from time to time to find our way to the tiny town of Pollenza where Rossana had discovered a fascinating and privately owned Vespa scooter museum.

It was a hot day and we set aside our jackets in our huge, fuss-free BMW bags.

The countryside rolled by and my wife had a ball playing with the camera as we rode.

Until we finally reached a coffee stop in the curiously named town of Cingoli (caterpillar tracks, as found on a tank). One more lovely Italian hill town.

Te coffee was welcome and Rossana our self appointed tour guide hustled us into the medieval church where I accidentally stepped on the white carpet and got a dressing down from an old hag in the back pew. She turned put to be the grandmother of the bride and took umbrage at me clumping on the pristine carpet. The encounter rather inclined me against Cingoli (pro: cheen-go-lee), but Rossana got it into her head we should stay to see the bride.

The wedding party showed up persuading the bulk of our party it was time to go, but Rossana is stubborn at times and it took the local cop telling us we were in a no parking zone to get her to shift.

We bugged out in short order not least because it was getting to be afternoon and we had a long way to go home, even after we found the wretched museum.

Curve followed curve and I had fun shifting up and down, taking the corners as they came with the ST which felt like a bicycle it was light through the turns.

Finally we pulled up at Pollenza a small town near the provincial capital of Macerata.

The unknown Vespa museum was just a few steps away.

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