The Appia near Castel Gandolfo was a biker's dream, straight as an arrow and cutting through the scenery, the first rays of the sun caressing the Roman ruins and the patrician villas dotting the hills.
So early in the morning, it was empty, save for a single Harley Davidson speeding through: the man riding it was a bit old perharps, at almost sixty years, but he didn't care about it, for as Marinetti used to say, a man is all about his energy,
