After a few days in Rome, our group of four was going to spend a week in converted palazzo in Tuscany. The girlfriend had rented a car to get there and to get around during our time there. To our American standards, it was an insanely small car. Barely big enough to hold four grown ups, let alone luggage.
Even though the car turned out to be relatively spacious on the inside, we still weren’t very grateful for our transportation during the three hour drive. That changed half a mile from our destination, when the steep road up the hill kept getting narrower.
The only place worst than between a rock and a hard place is between a rock and a 20 foot vertical drop. With a remarkably quiet girlfriend at the wheel and our friend April gently cussing in the back seat, we crawled forward. Finally at the top, we were greeted by a cheerful tiny woman in her seventies, our landlady. She noticed the relief on my face and asked “Do you know what to do when halfway you meet a car in opposite direction?”. I shook my head. “You pray”, she chuckled.
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