Its just come back to me, the worst road journey of my life.
I'm 16 years old and its 1976, bloody hot and we just landed at Naples airport. Thats me, my brother, mum and dad.
My nan (large lady R.I.P) has organized her village taxi driver to pick us up from Naples and take us to her village . In those days, approx 70 miles of which 40 is thru the hills and mountains.
10.pm, Up he turns in a bloody 850T. who's bloody riding shotgun, me nan (as said, Large lady).
The six of us are squeezed in along with the luggage, what a nightmare. Nan's sitting up front like A Don, Anyway, off we go thru the streets of Naples. It turns out, the village taxi driver doesnt get out much so takes his chance to go past the same 3 street ladies about 5 times in 20mins. Nan gives him a clump and were off to zungoli.
2 hours later, we' re there. I really dont know how. Mountain roads, no street lighting, 6 people in a bloody 850T.
Just had another thought. It gets worse
A few days later, nan tells us she's paying the taxi driver to take us to Rome for the day. I honestly dont think anyone in the village had any idea how far Rome was from Zungoli.
During the war the Ericks took all the men from the village and put them to work in german factories. My grandad didnt like it so he walked home, took him a couple of months so I guess that made him the traveler of the village. Unfortunatly he popped off before I was born so he couldnt explain the reality of distance to my nan.
Taxi is booked for 5.00am, again 850T and guess who's bloody riding shotgut, Large lady R.I.P.
