Doug and Bruna's Motorcycle Adventure

Since it's Sunday the chef (me) has the night off (beside I am out of food) so I had planned to eat out. One of the ladies in the group of folks that I talk with all afternoon, and who lives across from the hotel residence had mentioned to me that there was an excellent Pizzeria in the next town. I searched for it myself by car on my afternoon gelato run but couldn't locate it.

I mentioned this to her late this afternoon and she offered to show me where it was, as the towns are very small.so she brings out her Motor cycle and two helmets, and puts her dog in the "boot" a plastic case with a hole cut out for its head and off we go, with much laughter from the folks back on the patio.first we pull up to her house and she honks until her husband comes to the window and she tells him she is leavig with the american and not returning. We all have a good laugh.

And then we turn around and speed away, ironically on my bike route through town. She asks me if I'm afraid and I say no, I used to drive one in Rome when I was 14.

We get to the Pizzeria parking lot and she let's the dog out and then we start on our way back, with the dog running next to us!we are quite the sight. Not exactly Easy Rider!

Finally her dog tires and we stop and put him back in his trunk, with his little head sticking out. I ask if her husband cut the hole in the plastic but she tells me the mechanic has done it.

We get back to much fanfare and I tell them all that I have fallen off 3 times. They know I am joling and I tell them Bruna is a good driver.

Her husband came out to take the bike to 7 pm mass.

Bruna told me that her husband, who I met yesterday,has studies English at University, but that was obviously years ago. He's a very friendly looking man who always has a smile on his face. She also telle me her grown sons speak English well and one works in London.

She asked me how I found this place as she has never met any Americans here before.

I think to myslef how odd that with all the Americans that come bike her not one of them has paused to engage these folks in a converstion.

Obviously few of us cyclists here speak Italian, but many do, and much better than I do.
But then, the nice getleman I met on the road to Enego the other day lived with his Italian brother in Toronto for 6 years and rarely spoke English.

Bruna went home to wait for her husband.
.
But not before I took a few photographs for the blog.