Episode Transcript
[00:00:01] Hello, and welcome to this episode of Life is Like a detective Novel, where I read from my latest book called Personal Legends of Piemonte. Today we meet Luigi the car mechanic. I refer to him as Luigi the Wizard because he can fix anything. If a phantom Rolls Royce showed up at his shop in Bubio, I bet he could fix it overnight. Unless the part took its time arriving, of course. Either way, Luigi always figured stuff out and the price was always right.
[00:00:30] And I've met few people who love their work as much as Luigi does. I never thought of work as that much fun, at least in the way Luigi the Wizard makes it appear. His two sons, Alessandro and Valter, work in the shop, and by the way, they pronounce Walter with a V in Piemonte. Doesn't sound very Italian, but I met so many of them there. Family businesses don't always operate in a seamless fashion, but Luigi's shop had a fantastic ambiance. It just felt fun. He genuinely seemed to be having a great time working alongside his two sons.
[00:01:03] In this interview, he shares how he arrived, along with some fantastic stories and jokes, Italian style. In this story, I write about a couple of road trips. I wonder about yours. Do you have one or two favorites that linger in the mind? Either way, I felt compelled to bring up one of my own. So, hey, let's dive into a story about how I lived in Piemonte for seven years and why it felt like a pilgrimage, not necessarily one in search of a blessing or penance. Instead, life lessons were learned, the kind that create intimate stories used to introduce each interview to you. Nestled up against the Italian, Swiss and French Alps, the Piemontese are formed by the mountains. They're tough and productive, and they're also worth reading about. They are so attached to their land, they make it appear magical. And, you know, I always use this tagline, Piemonte, as the secret that needs to be told. But I think the secret is getting out about this region of Italy. There's my book, and I'm going to be on a podcast later this month with a woman who interviewed a couple from San Francisco who bought a 300-year-old farmhouse in Piemonte. And they wrote all about it in a book called Pinch Me. I think this means they're happy. I bet they found their bliss. And there's also a wonderful film called the Truffle Hunters. It's a fantastic documentary about the secretive world of elderly truffle hunters of Piemonte hunting with their trained dogs in quintessentially Piemontese land with the misty hills and the dense forests and the small villages untouched by modern hustle. So, hey, speaking of, let's dive into the town of Bubio and talk about road trips and Luigi's colorful repair shop. I haven't visited as many continents as Francis, but on three, I sincerely believe a car still plays a major part in our daily lives. Some parents I know are convinced they learn more about their children's current life in a car than anywhere else. They swear by it and take them everywhere. Mine did.
[00:03:02] I too appreciate the intimacy of a car, along with the conversation inspired within its close quarters. I don't know about you, but I really can carry on.
[00:03:11] However, Frances and I went without owning one for a decade. We opted to rent them for specific occasions, like crossing borders and cruising our way throughout Europe. One time, while living in Bucharest, I chose a questionable rental car for a road trip. It was the only one available.
[00:03:29] I experienced one of the wild road trips on the planet. A scenic and surreal route along the Carpathian Mountains of Romania. It's called the Transveragh Aristan Highway. There's a car show in England called Fast Gear, Top Gear or some such. Anyway, they raced Ferraris along the route and giggled the entire time. It is dangerous and very disconcerting. It took me two days. At one point I was behind a French guy and he just stopped, got out of the car, uttered some fantastic French expletives and turned around. It's truly odd. There's few guardrails, questionable road to traverse long stretches of space without seeing another soul. The adventure is not for everyone, and not everyone completes the route. But I did because of Godot. Godot was our dog and sat in the passenger seat. We named him after a character in a famous play called Waiting for Godot. The irony of the play is that Godot had already arrived. Even though the actors wait the entire time. It's simply a metaphor for life. The favorite slogan is made by the shoe company Nike. Just do it. And I learned about the highway the same time I lost my little dog, Colette. She accompanied me for the entire odyssey from Seattle, across the Atlantic, across western, central and Eastern Europe.
[00:04:47] We said goodbye in Bucharest. She was so tiny from the first day. She slept above my head on her little pillow. She spent her entire life watching me. In her final weeks, she went deaf and blind. Everything happened quickly, for which I was grateful. But that didn't stop Colette from venturing outside her little round bed to sniff me out till she'd find me at my desk. Colette had Followed me for what felt like forever. With her eyes and her heart. She told me when it was time to go. The Romanian vet came to our house, and she died quietly in my arms. Frances and I found an ideal spot in the countryside for such a creature. We found a waterfall near one of those tiny churches called troitas. Whenever a faithful Romanian passes a Troita, they instantly make the sign of the cross in midair. This made me smile, knowing Colette would receive prayers throughout the day. When I let her go, and before I could assimilate her, I took this petite pilgrimage. Afterwards, as with my mother's death, she became a part of me and I could move on with my life. But that was in Romania, and our new life in the Italian countryside demanded we buy a new and reliable car. Tasks were pragmatic, but took time, and the seasons were dramatic. It took at least an hour to travel a couple of villages to buy groceries, which I did every day. In winter, the locals cleared the snow on a regular basis. We didn't need a tractor for our personal driveway, but it felt like we were the only two without one. However, a car was critical to living in the middle of nowhere. I bought a white Subaru, and she became my new best friend. I named her Helen. Frances traveled constantly for work and bought a black Subaru to take back and forth to the airport. He named her Sabrina. I had a Vespa named Audrey. We now had three vehicles in need of regular service.
[00:06:35] A trip to a local Subaru dealership took a full day every six months. Another uneventful and relatively expensive day, until Massey recommended Luigi. From our first service, Francis admired Luigi's style. He considered him a fellow traveler because he acted like an engineer. The problem was always identified and the part arrived the following day. Luigi could fix anything. Luigi felt like a revelation. He could make the monetary expense of a mechanic go down like a spoonful of sugar. He did have help. His two sons worked at the shop. Alessandro and Valter, both competent, easily adopting their father's philosophy. How often does that happen in a family business? Especially in Italy, where the next generation tends to prefer their own way.
[00:07:23] Whatever slings and arrows came their way, Valter and Alessandro would deflect with humor and a super attitude. Francis was a fan, but Luigi got my attention because he was the most gregarious Piemontese I'd ever met. And I never thought of work as fun until I went to Cheapi's car shop in Bubbio.
[00:07:43] It was always a morning event. The option of walking to Massey's for a cafe in Cornetto was tempting. Yet Luigi's shop carried seductive benefits.
[00:07:53] A tour around Luigi's joint could be beguiling every item in need of repair, inspiring the mind's eye to go into overdrive. While surveying colorful, tiny and mid sized classic cars, I fantasized about the owners.
[00:08:07] Walking around, I checked out sleek motorcycles built to race or large comfortable ones ideal for a weekend tour, others for daily happiness.
[00:08:17] Looking closer, I saw missing items like a silver switch, a speedometer with a lost part, or pieces of an electronic pattern surrounding a steering wheel. Maybe a seat was missing. I admired elegant leather interiors off white or deep red, celadon green or baby blue. Surrounded by all those curves, eye candy everywhere. I wondered if anyone loved their vehicles the same way Italians do. Perhaps the Germans, but they're so pragmatic and far less romantic. No one seemed to mind my loitering. Without intent, Luigi was happily engaged in his office, his voice carrying throughout the shop. Ordering something, learning something, or telling a joke.
[00:09:00] Alessandro and Valter each tinkered with their own puzzles, soon to be solved. When I asked a question, they indulged my curiosity. When I saw another client come into Luigi's shop, I had no doubt the vehicle could be fixed on time and at the right price. Luigi was always in his work overalls, but one time I saw him in a sports car. He was dropping Francis off and I barely recognized him. As he drove away, a transformation occurred. From a short guy who enjoyed his wife's cooking to a stylish Italian happily in command of his own sports car. Don't ask me for the model. I was focused on his black sunglasses and easy smile in the rearview mirror, the top down, waving his hand casually in the air, without a care in the world. If my next job offered this much fun, I'd take it. But until then, I'll live vicariously through Luigi. I'm not sure how many shops resemble his, although Fiat created quite a few in the land where people cared deeply for their cars. One time, a friend named Michele came to dinner. He was a member of the carabinieri, and everyone likes the Carbonieri because they always help more than the policia. On this we might all agree. Michele was off duty. He drove up our driveway in a cinquecento and parked it in the forecourt. It's one of Italy's smallest cars. As I waited at the front door, I watched his entire family spill out, one after another, each as happy as the next, as if refreshed by the close quarters they carried. That energy right into the house and proceeded to teach me how to make pizza.
[00:10:38] So, hey, thank you so much for listening. And that is from a story in my latest book called Personal Legends of Piemonte. And I have a book signing at the Almost Corner Bookshop on April 10, so I'd love to see you there if you're heading to Rome, the eternal city. And hey, please check out my website, BaileyAlexander.com for more information, book signings, podcasts and all the rest. So hey, thanks for listening. Ciao for now. Rivederchi.
