Work sent me to Italy. You know, to work. So I did. I busted my butt for five days. When that was done: MOTO. I contacted the good folks at Central Italy Moto Tours again and rented a bike (I definitely recommend them). I asked for the F700GS. No can haz. So they rented me their F800GT.
I picked up the F800GT in Milan. This time I dealt with a different man from the rental agency than last time, a nice chap named Claudio. (He was also easy on the eyes – giggity). I opted not to take the side bags that came with the bike. Too wide. Must lane split. I said yes to extra insurance and yes to GPS. Also, YES to unlimited kilometers.
I left the garage and hit Milan rush hour traffic. It was not as daunting as I had expected and I was nowhere near as sketched out as I had been when I rented a bike last time. About 90 seconds after departure the rondelle holding the left side of my visor popped off. WEEE. I hit the autostrada towards Genova to stay at my Italian teacher’s house because I was running late and didn’t have time to go back to the moto rental office. Besides, the medium did not fit mah noggin.
Half an hour in it got dark and cold. Real cold. I pulled over at one of these cool Italian rest stops, which have gas and snacks without leaving the road. On and off. EASY.
Quick bite consumed, I was back on the road and discovered the heated grips on the rented Bimmer could cook an egg. Praise dog.
Off I went. Straight, straight. Straight. Oh, what is this? Splashy drops? REALLY? Seems to be my theme for Italy. Pick up bike, take autostrada. Dark times, rain.… Wait, it’s just a few drops for a bit. Hey, what’s that? OOOOH, the road is CURVY. Wish I felt more comfy on the bike but dip in and go. I love that Euro drivers typically don’t hog the left lane. Next thing I knew I was in Genova.
In Genova I came to the intersection where I was to wait and call my teacher. Except I had no phone. Surely I could find his house.
NOPE. I went up a kajillion stairs looking for him. I disturbed a poor Nonna. Back on the street, about to give up I saw a lady walking up the hill. Out came my poor Italian, “Mi sono perdita. Stop circando per la casa dello mio insegnante.” She was going the same way and led me there. Up a kajillion more stairs and I was home.
The next morning I woke up to grey skies but look at this view!
Then the rain started. Call me a weiner if you will but crashing on a rental bike in a foreign country was low on my list of priorities. So, I napped. ALL. DAMN. DAY. I’ll crash my own bike anytime but I am too poor to crash a fancy BMW. I am fancy enough that I took a quick video of the rain coming down. It meant business.
Well rested after my grueling trade show days, I planned a ride for the next day with Marco’s help. I will cover that in my next post.
xoxo from Milano,