Lake Como.

Yesterday we had the longest drive of our trip, from Rimini on the Adriatic, to the most beautiful spot I've ever seen, Montrasio in Lake Como.

In all we covered nearly 250 miles, which is a lot on the Autostradda, where you can't chill for a minute. It's worse, even, than the confluence of the Bruckner and the Cross Bronx--it's high-speed bumper cars. But we averaged 140 kph and made it here in good time.

My Alfa Romeo Guilietta is a fine little car with a good diesel engine and a six speed gearbox. We rattle a bit when we reach 160 kpg (roughly 100 mph) but we're ok at 140, and though the change oil light has been flashing the whole time, thus far the car has performed admirably.

Italian drivers seem to have a knack for driving at high-speeds precisely in your blind spot, and switching lanes and merging, etc. seems to be a blood sport, but all is well, in general and I am beginning to see the wisdom in driving like an Italian. Everyone stays alert and you move very fast.

Now a word about America's failed politics.

Unlike America, Italian roads are velvet smooth. There are no rough patches, no potholes, no litter, no fuss, no muss. Italians, unlike Americans, accept the power of the State to levy and collect taxes. They benefit in the form of trains that run and roads that don't look like the Vietnamese DMZ.

After over 1000 miles of driving, we have decided to chill today.

I am sitting under a high-cumulus cloud cover between the hotel's pool and the deep blue waters of Lake Como.

No ads need to be written today, so far anyway. No conference calls beckon. No day-rates to be billed.

Just me, sleeping, in the foothills of the Italian Alps.