Driving in Italy

 I don’t think that I am alone when I say the thought of driving in Italy brought terror to my eyes.

My vision of Italian drivers was of wild-eyed crazies in tiny little cars who treated pedestrians as targets and who announced their intentions by leaning out of the window and shouting unintelligible curses.

That made-for-Hollywood reputation was somewhat reinforced by an earlier trip to Rome, where I found crossing the street on foot was something of a dance and that no one but Americans seemed distressed when a speeding Vespa missed you by millimeters. They seemed to be playing be a whole different set of rules.

Which they were. And which I am gradually learning to understand.

In many ways, Italian drivers are among the most skillful that I have witnessed. For all the “crazy” driving I’ve been subject to, I have yet to see a single accident on an Italian roadway. But I’ve seen both many breath-taking maneuvers and enough examples of safety to change my expectations.  So here are my observations after spending nearly a month behind the wheel of my little Fiat:

• Despite the American fascination with European railroads, you need a car to see the real Italy. The trains are great, but they go from city to city. If what you want is the urban experience via public transportation, the trains are wonderful. (And everyone should see Rome and Florence at least once in their lives). But if you want the Under the Tuscan Sun experience of villages with  Etruscan/Roman/Medieval ambience, only a motor vehicle will take you down Italy’s version of Blue Highways. And…
• There is no Uber in Italy. Only Luxembourg has a higher rate of car ownership in Europe. Italians like to drive.
• Jaunts through unknown countryside are far more relaxing when you drive as a coordinated pair – a focused driver and a competent navigator. This is especially true when all the road signs are in another language. Give Cecile a cell phone, Google Maps and a paper map for the big picture, and she can take us almost anywhere – as long as I can keep us on the road.
• T-Mobile’s cell phone coverage is better here than it is in Missouri. The mapping and navigation programs work just the same here as home (and in English), but there is always that spot with “no bars.” It’s best to plan your route before driving it.
• Tuscan mountain roads are right out of a James Bond movie. There are all the twists, hairpins, and drops, along with more than a few Fiat drivers who really think they have that Aston Martin when they pass you on a curve. But if you can look up for a second, the scenery is spectacular.

There are no passing lanes. But everyone passes in the most un-American spots. (Check out the video of our daily "home drive.")

• And that works because Italian driving relies on faith. People seem assured that the other driver will indeed pull over far enough that you can squeeze between oncoming cars or that you will know when to exit a round-about.
• Bicyclists are the most faithful of that faithful. There are neither bike lanes nor shoulders but cycling is a national sport. Whole teams of Spandex-clad pedallers keep their heads down and don’t seem to flinch when barreling cars and trucks skim by them.
• “Barreling” is a relative term. While it seems that every car and truck is roaring at Mach 1, the speed limits are low by U.S. standards. Top (and rare) freeway speed is 110 kilometers per hour – but that is just 68 miles per hour. Two-lane state highways top at 90 kph (56 mph) but are mostly 70 kph (43 mpg), dropping to 50 kph (31 mph) near towns. And there are a lot of towns. Turn off on a residential or business street and you creep at 30 kph (just under 19 mph). Speed is enforced with traffic cameras, radar scanners and the occasional Carabinieri roadblock. Carry your International Driving License in the glovebox.

• 
  There is a good reason Italians don’t drive big SUVs or brutish pickups.  The ancient old cities have streets designed for ox carts – or a single mule. Our Fiat Panda is a skinny little gem with flat sides that usually scoots through, though I didn't believe it when we belatedly saw the sign that a street was only 1.2 meters (less than 4 feet) wide.  A Cadillac Escalade would take Teflon paint and a coat of Vaseline to scrape through village roads.
• Those big SUVs also don’t squeeze petrol – which runs about $8.25 per gallon. There is some consolation that the standard European octane is closer to our mid-grade than regular. Our Fiat gets about 39 mpg on mountain roads.  It is a “mild hybrid” with a small battery and electric motor that boosts acceleration – much like an e-bike. It recharges on the downhill.
•  I’m impressed with Italian road maintenance. Most of the roads are smooth and well-striped compared to Missouri county roads. The signs that are both frequent and decipherable to an American if you look at the pictures instead of read the words. But just like when finding your way, having a good navigator to read the signs is glorious.

On the whole, driving in Italy is much easier and much more fun than I ever expected. Set aside the stereotypes and cultural fears and get behind the wheel. Buon viaggo.