driving a tuna can

Today the four Zarcones squeezed into a car the size of a tuna can and took a stroll through the countryside.  Now, I am a girl that really gravitates to old cars.  My grandfather and my dad both used to restore cars.  My grandfather rebuilt a 1929 Ford Model A that my parents still own.  My dad has tinkered with everything from british touring cars to old American pick up trucks.  My brother had a pretty beast muscle car back in the day too.  So if a car is older than me, I will probably find it amazing!

When I was looking for things for us to do while Tom was in Florence, I wanted to make sure to include a tour that took us further into the Chianti region.  I happened upon this small tour company that specializes in driving tours.  While you don't drive a Ferrari, as Tom would have preferred, you drive lovingly kept Fiat 500s.  These little cars are original vehicles from the 1960s (ours was from 1962) - think Italian versions of the VW Beetle.  

While I just sat back like Miss Daisy, Tom had to quickly learn the nuances of driving with a "double clutch."  This basically involves pushing the clutch in once to disengage the gear that you are currently using and pushing the clutch in a second time to put the car into the next gear.  So, you ultimately push in the clutch twice to change from one gear to the next.  Tom was a quick student and never stalled our car - we did get a slight bucking bronco ride at one point though.  The most thrilling part for the kids was riding without a seatbelt.  

While the car we were riding in today was minuscule, most cars in Italy are on the petite side.  Parking is at a premium in Florence and in the historic center vehicles are prohibited all together.  It seems that most people rely upon bicycles, scooters or motorcycles to get around.  We love seeing how people carry packages at their feet on a scooter, piled precariously.  Today we saw, by far, the most bizarre scooter ensemble.  The scooter driver was riding with a small poodle between his feet.  Tom equated it to a redneck driving a pickup with his dog in the bed of the truck.  I thought that was a great analogy. If I hadn't been so stunned, I would have been horrified.  

While most drivers seem to be very respectful (recall the gas/brake blog post from earlier), the police are all business.  The police cars are the equivalent of little rally cars.  They are small, grey compact cars that look like they just got a wash and a shine.  And, when they have on their lights on they move like lightening.  Drivers really get the hell out of their way too, I think because they know they will get run over (or run off the road) if they don't.  I swear there must be an officer in the passenger's seat yelling out navigational directions that include degrees of a turn.  There is a police station on our block and I fully expect to see Tanner Faust or Travis Pastrana standing outside.  At the very least, I expect to see a Red Bull sticker on one of the police cars.  

Tom is having a great time identifying all of the different types of cars and motorcycles - especially the ones we don't have in the States.  I love seeing him perk up and his head snap around to get a glimpse of a throaty two-stroke motorcycle whizzing down the street.  While Tom is dreaming of getting home and jumping on his dirt bike, I am content to be living in a walking city for the time being.  It is nice to really slow down, appreciate your surroundings and work for your daily chianti and gelato!