FI-PI-LI, Manually

By Pamela Birchard

Florence, Pisa, Livorno: I’ve plotted those destinations and relentlessly head toward them, despite confusing road signs symbolized by arrows and exclamation points, the obvious anxiety of my passengers, the protesting car horns as we lurch forward, whether it’s our turn on the roundabout or not. No stopping us now!

In a packed rental Fiat Panda, the Italian outer bound [Fi-Pi-Li] seemed overwhelming. My only compass is the speedometer and the street names, which I don't understand at first glance. All I know is I must exit at Empoli Oeste. That means west! I'm getting the hang of this. Just drive for an hour and make it to Certaldo, a small countryside town and home to the Mercantia festival.

As my courageous test of driving skills begins, excitement fills my stomach as I switch gears. I reach my first bump in the road, a roundabout, and forget to yield. Cars come from behind me, to the right of me, and in the meantime I’m looking out for the ones ahead of me. It was 20:00 after all, traffic continued throughout and everyone on the road headed for a different exit, crisscrossing madly.

The passengers’ alerts exclaiming, “watch out!” and “turn here!” shake my senses, and I accelerate quickly, jerking forward. At least we survived the first left turn.

Until a fancy, more familiar European car honks loudly at me. This Mercedes must have been within a meter of my brake lights. My chair and my foot are as forward as they can be. The poor Fiat will not go fast enough. Go! Go! is what the honks yell. To swerve or to stay, I guess I am in the left lane after all.

How can they get away with driving this fast? Since the police rarely speak English, I just took advice from the receptionists at both the Europcar rental and tourist information offices. They both recommend not driving within Florence. On the “outer routes” the speed limit is 90 km even though at 110 km, cars still zoom by me.

Finally getting off FI-PI-LI at Empoli, since I didn’t need to reach Pisa or Livorno, another roundabout points me in an unfamiliar direction. I stall. My first mistake, then grinding gears in fear of more horns and tail gates. The road becomes narrow and empty, with trees on either side.

At last, an affirming sign, no need to reverse. I know the cracks and humps in the road keep me at a steady speed. It is bumpy and dark and I am concerned for the other riders and drivers. But it is a straight transition into the town and next thing you know, we’re there. Let the Mercantia festivities begin. I park and lift the brake.

Coming back, well after midnight,I watch out for one ways that look like two ways, roadblocks, and blind spots, particularly from those on Vespas. Pedestrians roam aimlessly and parking spots are hard to come by.

The rental process seemed pretty straightforward. The agent let us park the Fiat at the shop. To rent a car, you must be 18 years or older, but if you’re not 25 or over, you must pay an extra 12 euros. Insurance was 30 euros, and as long as I didn’t go over 100 kilometers, the total price was 104 euros, since I was an Italian resident. They provided us with a map and directions, even though for an additional 30 euros, GPS would have been nice.