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GTV6.org Feature Articles The Autostrada...
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| The Autostrada... | |
| Author: | D. Bongiovanni |
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A week or so in Italy is just what Dr. Art prescribed for my acute case of Rabbitus Rolleroverus, contracted shortly after rolling my GTI Cup race car. Delighted to have accidently broken my laptop computer on the second day, I reviled in the opportunity to truly be free of my worldly chains for a short, but memorable experience. The Italian driving experience is the most pure I've had, focused on speed but dedicated to style. The cars, the ettiquite, and the lack of respect for traffic laws seem intimidating at first, but conspire to clearly illustrate lessons for on-track behavior.
Reaching Malpensa Airport in Milan, I quickly found our good buddies at Thrifty Car Rental, but was disappointed to be assigned not the beloved Alfa 156, but a Daewoo Leganza 2.0 CDX. At least it had a 206 km/hr (127 mph) top end. The drive to the hotel revealed a wholly unemotional, but surprisingly competent four door sedan. Confidence inspiring brakes, good directional stability, and just enough damping help keep the shiny side up at triple digit speeds. Early the next morning, I made my best line through the Autostrada on-ramp and settled into a comfortable cruising speed of 206 km/hr. My fellow road warriors seemed to pay far more attention to their mirrors than our American counterparts. I rarely surprised a straggler in the fast lane, and lane discipline in general seems to surpass even that of, dare I say, the Germans. Passing, however, is more of a conversation than a simple event. Rich communication occurs between the passer and passee, which I later find is not just polite, but necessary for the level at which the Italians drive. When approached, the passer will straddle the white line, as if to say "I'll move over if I have to, but hurry up and pass." The pass is executed with the passee giving up only about a foot as he slides around you. Luckily, the passee's diligence increases proportionally with your closing speed. Curiously, the only vehicles which consistently displayed poor lane discipline were the Ferraris... Confident that, despite a supposed speed limit, the Polizia didn't really care how fast I went, I headed past Florence and into the mountainous region for a one hour thrill ride of 120-180 km/hr sweepers. Trailing a surprisingly quick Audi A6 Avant 2.5TDi, driven with blistering Group IV intensity, I couldn't help but be amused by the serene composure of the passengers who completed the family of four. Passing here required good planning and unshaking commitment, as any twitch of the wheel or brakes communicated a lack of confidence to the passee, who would invariably close the door and enjoy the line themselves. Past Florence, the Autostrada opens up for more top end cruising into Rome, but I had been warned that things get a little more hairy in the south. The first rule of driving in Southern Italy is, there are no rules. Lane markings on two and three lane secondary roads are by imagination, and red lights generally mean 'stop, if you really want to.' The only way to maintain your position is to treat every take-off and merge like the first turn of the last race of the season, not unsimilar to duking it out with the cabbies in New York City. Memories of the not-so-soft tire barrier in turn 7 at Sears point reminded me to keep my eyes on the road ahead as much as the car next to me. And I think I counted three stop signs in a week, as most intersections without lights are uncontrolled, at least not in English. Once in Rome, I adapted to the driving style but quickly found that the roads in the center were designed by twelve deer roaming around two thousand years ago. As if that weren't bad enough, the modern traffic control engineers have seen fit to create a proliferation of one way streets pointing outwards. At least they are not pointing in. After two hours spent trying to go a half-block, I gave up and risked the ticket by backing down a one way street, though by now this was the least of my offenses. Realizing a car isn't necessary in Rome, I returned the trusty Daewoo to Thrifty, luckily three blocks from my destination, and I enjoyed the sights, sounds, and cuisine of Rome. For my return trip to Milan, I scored a Lancia Delta 1.6 16V four-door hatchback. I immediately noticed the comfortable interior and a rev-happy engine with a distinctively Italian growl. Heading back out onto the Autostrada, I found the delightful engine to be hampered by excess body roll, noticeable bump steer, and an utter lack of damping, not to mention trailing throttle oversteer better suited to the track than unfamiliar roads. My ego inflated by a 12 km/hr optimistic speedometer, I found the 198 km/hr (true) Lancia to be a strange partner, where the sum of mediocre parts melded into a entertaining ride. Worth noting is the Alfa Romeo museum in Milan. This four story history of ALFA and Alfa Romeo contains almost every significant vehicle made by the famous mark, ranging from a 1911 24hp tourer with a wonderful patina to a stunning 1750 Gran Sport Zagato. Bi-motor and Alfetta Gran Prix cars made a wonderful backdrop to the funky Giugiaro and Bertone prototypes from the 70s and 80s. Now back in Pacifica, I haven't been able wring the GTV-6 out like it deserves, and I haven't had a good meal in a week. However, when that left lane bandit gets me down, I just look forward to my next trip to the motherland. |
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