“I may be hard... It's a scam”
Sabaudia-Lucca-Pissa
Due to far too much wine and far too entertaining conversation we were up far too late this morning. We planned to leave around 9, we rolled out of bed about that time, and we were not moving quickly. Paul on the other hand was sprightly and gardening by the time we emerged from our bedroom. We showered, chugged down some coffee, repacked Milo, attempted to kill the rest of the ants that were still feeding on him and left hoping to chase down a few hundred kilometers to see some tower that was built on faulty ground.
We pull out of Paul’s with a threatening thump, we looked around terrified we had run over a dog but no… there they were wagging their tails… ok… well Milo is going so we’re not going to worry about it. After taking the long way around due to the driver’s assistance on using the satnav rather than the old fashioned map we were finally within 20 kilometers of the toll road. Great. Oh look two helicopters, I wonder what they’re doing. We wouldn’t have to wonder for long, traffic stopped, we slowed to a crawl. Milo does not like crawling he does not like it at all, his temperature went up like a petulant child, this is not what we needed in 100+ degree weather. We finally crossed the bridge over the toll road went to turn and saw traffic was stopped as far as the eye could see, no way could Milo handle that.
Consulting the old fashioned map I saw that there was a smaller road that would dump us back onto the toll road about 20 kilometers ahead where hopefully the accident wouldn’t have reached. We went for it, but no, there was road construction, we stopped again. Milo was not only overheating, he was now refusing to go into gear and stalling in first. Oh no, was Milo finally giving up the ghost?
After a few mechanics shops (none of them open of course), we finally found someone to lead us to a more official looking one. They were perplexed my dear Milo, but willing to have a look at him. We cringed that our gear box was gone, knowing there was no way we were pouring hundreds of Euro into him at this point. They tried to explain to us the problem, however they didn’t speak English and we speak neither Italian nor car. Goggle translate to the rescue. After some humorous translations (see title), we were able to ascertain it was merely that our gear box was out of fluid. They put more in. One mechanic took him for a little joy ride and Milo was ready to ride again!
The mechanics marveled at all our stickers from the various countries we’ve visited and asked disbelievingly if we had done them all in this car, we assured them that we had in fact done all those miles in the last few weeks, we shared a laugh and tried once again to get on the road.
I cannot even begin to tell you how hot it is in Milo, and today I was in the passenger seat with the blazingly hot Italian sun blaring down on me. It was awful, like torture. There was nothing I could do, no reprieve no break. Not only was the sun blistering me, but the air coming in the window was just stagnant and acrid, then add in the fact that Milo radiates heat below my feet and it’s like a hot box. I was hungover and sweltering and hungry and stressed and there was no escape, it was a long long day.
But Milo was moving again luckily without too much trouble, and we managed to have dinner in another beautiful Italian town and made it just 20 kilometers shorts of that leaning tower, a hot and sweaty success of a day.
Day 35
