| Bicycle touring Sardinia. The
road plunged in a hypnotic series of writhing coils, wriggling
down the mountainside like some giant asphalt serpent. We rolled
through Ierzu -- a narrow town crazy-glued to a mountainside
with an air of nonchalance. Townsfolk gaped at us open-mouthed
as we cruised past. It may have been that they were impressed
we were in their fair mountain town on pedal bikes. Or perhaps
it was because we were cycling the wrong way down a one-way street.
Sharon shouted at me for not paying closer attention to street
signs. "At least I don't have to worry about cars behind
me," I shouted back, trying to look at the positive side.
(Like they say: If everything is coming your way, you're in the
wrong lane.) |
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