| Bicycle touring Sardinia. We
struggled onward, woefully, into the wind, until we spotted an
old-timer in a vineyard. He was furrowing a field with a mule
and one-blade plow. We needed a break, so we stopped and lay
down in a ditch to escape the wind and watched them. Both man
and beast staggered a hundred feet, then rested. After a thirty-second
time-out, they swung one hundred eighty degrees and plowed a
furrow back. It was hard labour. Sufficiently humbled, we pulled
up our bootstraps, and carried on. |
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