To buzz around Rome on a scooter is not the life-threatening experience some would describe. At all. You just have to be sharp and watchful and submit yourself to the Roman rules of the road. You can’t wimp out . You have to “become that thing” — a Roman road warrior. That means you have to make those Roman car and scooter drivers be scared of you a little bit, but you have to do it with a laugh and a chuckle.
I have never felt quite so particularly thrilled as I have after scooting around that city. It’s glorious. It’s almost like taking part in the chariot race in Ben-Hur. A Rome-residing HE reader named “Nola” implied yesterday that the Roman streets are full of Stephen Boyds with metal knife blades sticking out of their chariot wheels. As Jake La Motta would say, “That’s in yo’ mind!” I’ve never run into that at all.
Even my late sister, a disabled woman who hid indoors for most of her life, fell in love with the experience.