”Dude, Stop crying or I’m going to smack you” I wanted to kick him. I’d never had anyone laugh at me so hard they started crying and couldn’t finish their sentence. “Look, I know what I’m doing is crazy. I don’t need you laughing at me for it.” My time in Napoli would finish much better than it began. In desperation, I had stopped at a garbage disposal company on the outskirts of Napoli, trying to find the correct road to my host’s home. I had been inside Napoli, gotten turned around, and taken the wrong road back out of town. Now I was 20 km away and running low on fuel. When the man at the weigh station booth heard that I had traveled to Napoli from Rome on a Vespa with luggage, he lost ... read more

Now I know “Now I know why God spared me from all of the stupid things I’ve done in my life,” I wrote in my journal. “So that he could show me Tuscany.” Take your most idealistic image of natural beauty, and max it out. Then paint it all over the countryside for miles and miles. That’s Tuscany, in a nutshell. It even says everywhere, “The most beautiful region in Italy.” That it may well be. It was on this incredible drive that I began to notice my declining fuel efficiency and pay very close attention to the performance of my bike. I would investigate this further when I reached Rome. As my awareness of the mechanics of my Vespa increased, I wrote the following about my respect for that which I could rely on: I’ve ... read more

The recollection of true love transcends tense It always brings warmth No matter the distance, spatial or celestial Whether live or dead, in or out always in the here and now And always bringing happiness I miss the painted lips of true love On a beach, on a bridge In your eyes, where I live Come see me BP France, November 2009... read more

Continued… I picked myself up off the road. No significant damage, just some deeper scratches on the side of the bike. I made it to Genova (Genoa) without further incident. Of course the rain began as I pulled into town, which is starting to look like a recurring pattern. I wandered through the city until I reached the suburb of Sestri Ponente. Even though I had started out early, I was now behind the time I had promised Alex I would meet her at the train station. Getting situated I couldn’t find the station, but she miraculously saw me in the street and I heard her call my name from across the way while I was searching for her. I don’t know if you have much experience wearing helmets, but the origin of sounds is a ... read more

It was an uneventful and unreasonably long ride from Lyon to Marseille. The day was unremarkable, save the oddity of passing a place called “Oregon,” (have you ever wondered where the name for the territory came from?) and my ride through the nougat capital of the world, Montelimar. You may, if your mind is limber enough, recall the name Montelimar from the beginning of the Beatles song, “Savoy Truffle” on the White Album. That’s why it sounded familiar when I saw it on the map between my points of departure and arrival. I looked it up, and indeed, it had earned its place of honor in George’s lyric. This is where white nougat was born. This prompted me to stop at the “Nougat Palace,” and (skipping the tour due to time constraints) visit the gift shop. ... read more