The worst of Horror? Driving here at night

 

Thirty hours late in taking the cars, but finally - you will say - you started. The fact is that the Volvo of Puddu has stopped at the first petrol pump and did not want to start again. Everybody wanted to put their hands and help but at the end it was a simple ground wire that had no longer contact. Okay we go. Traffic like in the worst videogame, it is night. And the game turns into a nightmare. Overtake murderers, trucks do not have rear lights, can you imagine motorcycles, bikes, dogs or truc truc. Everybody, however, use the high beam. Bump, deadly intersections, in entrance and exit from the countries. All around a lost humanity, dusty, but never desperate. The last twenty kilometers are the worst, towards hills that you cannot see, wretched villages, so much mud and dark. The moon is struggling to shed light among these poor things. Finally, the Fort Hill, an old luxury residence, a glass of Cabernet Shiraz that absolves everything and that we drink in front of a brazier. It reduces fatigue of two days among those ones that we will always remember. Yesterday we spent all day in Crowne Plaza Hotel. Today, all morning in the same hotel, four hours in a deposit then five hours extricating among trucks, cursing their glaring, sharpening eyes all the time. But now there is a hot water bottle in the bed, our Giulia works well, the cold is passing. And tomorrow is another day.