I think I see a dent – Driving in Italy, Episode 2

Cafe in Tuscany

Our first stop was the hill town of Orvieto.  The town was built as a minor fortress on top of a big hill hundreds of years ago.  It protected the serfs living in the surrounding countryside.  When trouble came, they found refuge behind the town walls and attackers had a hard time fighting uphill.  Some of the popes from the middle ages lived in this town, before the Vatican was built.  We conveniently parked outside of the town in a nicely shaded municipal parking lot.  Tall walnut trees gracefully swayed in the breeze as we walked towards the twisted lanes of the old town.  After a nice pizza lunch, we wandered around the main square, which houses a huge 700-year old cathedral.

a lane in the hill town of Orvieto
Quietly strolling the lanes of Orvieto

Back at the car, I immediately noticed something was wrong.  Or at least I thought I did.

“Lisa, was there a dent in the roof when we picked up the car this morning?” I asked my significant and usually very observant other.

“I don’t know,” she said.  “Aren’t you supposed to examine the car and make a note of the damages on that form they give you before we drive away?”

Good point.  Touche.  I did do that this time, I recall, although I don’t always do it.  I should, but sometimes out of sheer laziness I live on the edge and roll the dice in the game of CDW avoidance.  I carefully analyzed the damage form.

“Uh, I don’t see any markings on the roof indicating any damage.”  I instinctively know that the major international rental car company will not let this one slide, they’ll extract every pound of flesh the can from me.  Then I noticed all of the walnuts on the ground.  In seeking shade to cool the car, I had navigated us to a spot underneath the walnut trees, and the breeze had knocked one loose to dive bomb the rental car.  As we drove away, I thought I was lucky in a way that only one bomb hit, rather than a lot.  Maybe they can pull that dent out.

chocolat
We always stop at a chocolate store!

Next stop, Montepulciano!  Say that five times fast, I dare you.  Another cool old hill town to walk around.  We parked in a lot down the hill from the main entrance to the town.  The roads seemed impossibly steep around parts of the town to carry your groceries home, but the views from the town walls of the valley below were fantastically beautiful. We wandered through small stores and art galleries, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine spreading across the main square and ancient alleyways.  After devouring a chocolate chip gelato, it was time to proceed to our final stop of the day, Sienna.

Cafe in Tuscany
A nice cafe in Tuscany

Driving across Tuscany is a sublime experience.  It is so tranquil.  The late summer flowers were blooming, the grape vines were turning brown, and it is easy to be patient driving 40mph behind a delivery truck on a narrow country road.  At least for a while, then impatience takes over and one wants to yell “turn right already!” at the top of one’s lungs out the window to the crows who watch from the power line overlooking the road.

I knew I didn’t want to attempt to drive into Siena.  You can do it, at least part way into the town, but it’s much better to park somewhere else and take a taxi.  We stayed at a hotel in the countryside with a nice view of the Siena hill.  The next day we joined the horde of tourists who flood the town every morning like a tsunami, only to recede back to their gigantic tour buses in the late afternoon, leaving behind their flotsam of empty wrappers and spent euros.  Much has been written about Siena, if you want that information, go read Rick Steves’ guidebook.  In a nutshell, we came, we saw, we ate, we shopped, we left.  Check that one off the list.

Siena
Piazza del Campo, Siena
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CDW? What’s that? Driving in Italy – Episode 1

My little yellow Vespa!

You might think driving in Italy while on vacation is a great idea.  Touring the wineries of Tuscany, admiring the neat rows of vines spread across the hillsides.  Stopping in romantic little villages for two hour lunches with plenty of vino to help you to your siesta spot.  Coming around that turn of the road to see yellow flowers stretching to the horizon.  You could take the bus I suppose.  Buses run between some of the towns in Tuscany.  Of course, you would be dependent on the bus schedule and also be prepared to use your own two feet on occasion to get where you want to go.  But it could be done.  For travelers sprinting across Italy in a couple of weeks, taking the bus doesn’t sound very romantic, and probably would take more time than most people have to spend.

So a car it is.  Yes, I can see myself now, cruising down the country lanes outside of Sienna in a red Alfa Romeo Spyder sports convertible while I think about what to have for dinner.  That’s what they drive in those old Italian movies, even the ones in black and white, I just know it.  But first one must pick up the car and get to where one’s dream reside.  That probably means driving in an Italian city, because they don’t typically have rental car offices in small, out of the way Tuscan towns.  Driving in the city, that doesn’t sound nearly as much fun…

I saved a taxi ride by fortuitously planning to stay in an apartment near the Via Veneto in Rome, which happened to be only one block away from an office of a major international car rental company.  After a few days touring the sights, sounds, and tastes of Rome, it was time to move on to that idyllic vision of touring Tuscany by car.  The Roman-looking man behind the counter seemed polite enough, despite the verbal assault he was currently taking from a typically loud, obnoxious American tourist.  The tourist wanted a car with automatic transmission, somewhat uncommon in Italy and the rest of Europe.  “I’m sorry, sir, we have no automatics available,” said Antonio (according to his name tag).  In a huff the tourist stomped out of the office, taking his wife, two gangly teenagers, and fourteen pieces of luggage.

Next in line, I gingerly approached the counter.  “Buon giorno Antonio! I am here to pick up my car.  Unlike my compatriot, I am perfectly happy driving a manual transmission.”  I cheerfully exclaimed. Antonio started filling in the appropriate forms. And that’s when I knew it was coming.  The dreaded CDW speech.  The task of renting a car is always complicated by the fact that one can buy extra insurance, called collision damage waiver (CDW), which covers damage to the car above and beyond what any reasonable insurance company customer would think is covered by their car insurance policy.  I usually decline CDW, because I am always reading in credit card company junk mail about how I am covered if I use the credit card in question to pay for the rental.  Plus, I have car insurance, it’s required by law, don’t you know.  I rented a car in France once upon a time from an agent who didn’t speak English very well.  The next thing I knew I was paying several hundred dollars extra for renting the car because of unintended CDW.  Don’t want that.  I could spend that instead on Peronis and gelato.  The CDW scam, uh, I mean legitimate business tactic for improving net income, is used widely in Europe on jet lagged and unsuspecting American tourists.  However, I will not be caught up in it again.  And besides, I haven’t been in an accident since 1990, and that was when I ran into a deer that jumped in front of my car driving through the north woods of Wisconsin at night, so that doesn’t even count.

Antonio spoke very good English.  He gave me the CDW spiel, I understood every word he said, and I confidently initialed in the proper place declining the unnecessary and extra coverage.  Ha!  I have defeated the dreaded major international rental car company at their game.  Take that.

“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have any red Alfa Romeo Spyder convertibles available.  And I see that your reservation is for a four door compact car, with a manual transmission.” Antonio informed me once the paperwork was done.  “I believe that the color of your car is grey, sir.”

“Whatever” I say, just give me the keys so I can get to cruising hill towns and sipping Chiantis.  The luggage would not have fit in the Spyder anyway.

Getting out of a major European city in a car can be a tricky and complex operation.  I study maps for weeks before the trip, as if I am attempting a winter climb of Mount Everest.  I print our several different scale maps of the area.  I zoom in on Google Earth to the exact location and memorize the street configuration.  I use Google Street View to know what I am up against.  I even map out my own directions, since most of the computer generated driving directions are wrong most of the time.  The goal is to get out of the maze of city streets onto a major road that connects to a highway that intersects with a freeway that leads out of the city.  Maps in hand, configuration memorized, views in mind, we prepare to set out.  After all the planning and preparation, I don’t even drive, I make my wife Lisa do it.  The reason for this is that I can only do one thing at a time.  I can’t drive and read the several layers of maps, street views, and street signs needed to escape the city’s orbit without crashing into oncoming traffic.  If I drive, that means Lisa navigates.  If she navigates, we usually end up going around in circles for hours until we run out of gas, while she asks me where on the map we are.  We make a good team when I am the navigator and she is the driver.

We take a left, a right, a left, and finally a right, adeptly navigating the Roman one-way streets.  Yes, we can do this!  Confidence builds as we hit the major road, then the highway, and finally the A1 freeway.  We have successfully driven out of Rome! We are racing down the Autostrada!  That wasn’t so hard.  I didn’t even use all of the maps I had printed.

My little yellow Vespa!
Give me a Vespa or give me death!

Stay tuned for episode 2…

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