FROM MAMOIADA TO PELOSETTA BEACH
The road winds ahead as if taken directly out of the pages of some old Moto magazine. Hung on the edge of a verdant cliff, it snakes its way forward, barely clutching the rock beneath. A deep turquoise Mediterranean on my left is a constant disruption, threatening to throw the distracted rider into its cold abyss. This is the kind of road we came here for. Give me the helpline of the Oxford Dictionary – I have found the definition of “perfect!”