Day 6
Guests were kind enough not to arrive while I was doing my Navy Seal operation yesterday. Phone was kind enough not to run out of minutes until I returned home from said operation. Otherwise the entire mission would have been severely compromised. I guess the angels are hovering despite all the seemingly non-angel -like hassle.
Day 7
Up early. Out eating breakfast at 7:15 according to church bells. Not lying in sun. I want to stay fresh for the car pick-up. Feels like a wedding day. I am agog with anticipation. Seems to be new growth on the jasmine, too. Tomatoes going great guns. Need some propping up. I think I'll run down to Febo Garden today, then, SINCE I'LL HAVE A CAR!! It's hot. 15 minutes and my pits are soaked. So much for a fresh appearance to Bruno the elettrauto. Although something tells me it would take more than freshness to erase the idiot stamp he sees on my forehead as a result of all this. My guests have kingly offered to drive me to m savior Bruno. Laura has described how to get there. Easy. Along the road to Bisenti. All I have to do is wait until after 9 when Bruno is (supposedly) open for business so I can call and check on what I owe him and then milk the bank a bit more. But please, dear god, let the time go quickly!!
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So much for directions. Guests and I spent a good 45 minutes looking for the elusive Bruno. Up and down the road to Bisenti. Ran into my friend Camillo on one pass, who clarified the way. "No, no. Not on the way to Bisenti. Towards Bisenti but then up the hill to Appignano. You can't miss it along this road. It's on the right."
Off we went, but "up the hill to Appignano" we saw nothing resembling an automechanic shop. So stopped at a bar to ask if we were on the right track. This time it was my friend Carlo who did guide duty. He just happened to be among the perennial bar guys at this particular one. He took me across the street to the "shop": a house with a long, steep driveway leading to the back. Carlo rang Bruno's bell. No answer. "Odd", he mused. "His key is in the door. He must be here." Sure enough, a house key was dangling from the doorknob. For anyone to turn and enter. Carlo didn't give it a second thought, as thought leaving keys in your door was commonplace. Indeed, I have often seen keys ahnging from knobs all over Castiglione. I just assumed it was a forgetful population. But perhaps it's a custom that lets neighbors know you are home.
Carlo led me down the steep drive. There, hidden under the house, was a garage bay. In it way my lovely blue dolphin. Bruno greeted us. He was a pale, timid-looking, bespectacled man with a stutter. He asked for 300 euro. No receipt allowed. Fine. As long as I have a key, I don't need the tax deduction and Bruno doesn't need to do....whatever giving a receipt would require him to do. I jumped in the driver's seat, put the key in the ignition, turned it, and....my little darlin' came alive!
Bruno shook his finger. "But that is the only key", he said. "you will have to get another. Sandro will explain ." Fortunate, because a stutter and my ear fo Italian do not make for 100% comprehension.
When I called Sandro later, he said I would have to go to a Lancia dealer for a second key. A key made at any old key duplication place would open only the doors. It would not start the ignition.
"Well, maybe I'll just get a few door keys and keep the ignition key hidden in the car." I said. I wanted this car journey to end. "At least then I'd always have a way in and always know where the ignition key was."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "Teresa," Sando said slowly, "Get another key."
"Okay", I said.
But it was Saturday afternoon. Nothing would be open, right? I made a beeline for the beach, single key in hand.
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| Car KEYS (Note the plural!!) |
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