My Irish neighbor at the campsite, Dennis, decided to pitch in and help me with my ornery air mattress project. He and his wife, Kay, are traveling by camper and he has all the “niggley” stuff I just can’t carry.

“Let me get a plugger for the sink and we’ll drown it,” he said with an O’Irish lilt.

Dennis added some nice levity to the situation. As we dunked the mattress section by section, he talked about their tour, taking a wrong turn, and heading over a mountain, and the heat.

Dennis was patient. We worked an entire side and found nothing. He was eager to try the other side when, wallah! – BUBBLES. “By God, I think that’s it,” he said triumphantly. I felt like I was working with Sherlock Holmes.

Using his thumb, Dennis sealed the hole and then pulled back.  More bubbles. “Well, this proves we’re not just a pretty face.” He was so fun!

The patch was left up to me. Dennis checked in a couple of times just to see it through to the end. I’ve yet to test my handiwork as my German neighbor let me sleep in her spare camper for the evening.

Stay tuned for a video interview with Dennis (couldn’t resist!)

CHALLENGE:  Anybody want to lay a bet on whether this repair job works?  🙂

PISA, Italy – Left camp at Montalto di Castro around 7:30 a.m. and was making good time. The wind was at my back and the road, Aurelia SS1, was pretty quiet for a Sunday.

I was pushing along at a good clip, about 23 miles an hour. Today was the day I was going to buckle down and get in some decent mileage.

At about the 12-mile mark, the traffic picked up, the ominous skies opened up, and it was time for a rain delay.

I happily drifted out of the rain and into a small roadside restaurant for some cafe and eggs. Within 30 minutes the rains stopped and I was on the road again; however, struggling a bit as the winds had changed.

Enter Sepp.

A small man on a bike, he came up from behind me. I was hunched over my handlebars, clunking along, and Sepp was moving effortlessly.

We had a brief “Ciao” moment and Sepp took the lead.

Sepp was from Switzerland and touring, as well. He had all the gear, decked out in clingy spandex and padded shorts. He looked to be in his mid 60s – and he was moving.

I, being the experienced and somewhat weary biker, took full advantage and drafted….close.

We rode for miles. I hung in Sepp’s wake and was selfishly pulled along. I rode so close I could read the small print on his rear fender. It felt rather intimate and naughty since I never jumped out to take my turn at the lead.

Sepp was strong; his hill climbs were effortless. I took a breath, lost a step, and dropped 15 feet back. Sepp noticed and waited.

There was a small wayside and we veered off to take some shad, and that’s where I learned more about Sepp.

A retired truck driver, he was on holiday bicycling from Rome back to Switzerland. He showed me a photo on his flip phone of himself posing with two police officers in front of the Basilica in Rome.

Sepp was 73 and stood about 5 feet tallF. he wore a blue and white do-rag under his helmet and he had a small, gold triangle earring in his left ear.

I mentioned how impressed I was with Sepp’s fitness and then I noticed his bike – a Bosch with a 400 Power Pack. I had heard about these biked being popular in Europe, especially with senior citizens. It gives them the ability to tour and ride, but also provides a booster rocket when the going gets tough.

Color me shocked. You know what this meant, right? It meant that all this while I was looking at this guy’s calves and admiring his Olympic bicycling skill, thinking he fell out of the Ron Howard movie “Cocoon” it turns out he’s got a built-in jet engine, and I’M the amazing biker to have kept up with him!

“Coffee time,” said Sepp. “Next stop.”  And he was off….at  stunning pace while I lugged and careened along, dragging my dinosaur tail of gear and trying to catch someone who was 22 years my senior.

During our coffee break I learned that Sepp was an amazing athlete. “I’ve run seven New York marathons, two Boston and one L.A.,” he told me.

“Fitness,” said Sepp. I was feeling less than amazing and more like I should take off the superhero cape that I had given myself for keeping up with his jet bike.

Clipping along at 23 mph and then dark clouds decide to open up – HARD.

I decide to drift into a roadside restaurant, dodging the tarp outdoors to get inside.

Cindy Lauper is on the jukebox. I order cafe and scrambled eggs. The owner/chef is gruff.  It was rather comical trying to get the word “scrambled” across for my order, though the eggs ended up done perfectly.

The sun is now out.

Time to buckle down and make time.

“Shaft” is on the jukebox as I leave. Can you dig it?

Here’s my cozy home-away-from-home for the night. You can hear the sea, and I’m awakening to a very energetic mourning dove and a bit of a puzzler….  It appears my air mattress has a hole. Somewhere.

I have a patch kit, but how do I find the hole?

After 75 miles I finally landed at Montalto di Castro. A boy on a scooter used an app on his phone to translate and finally wrote “follow me” as he led me to a campsite on the coast.

It took less than a minute to meet my new neighbors – an energetic group of Italian kids around 6-9 years old. The girls were in the majority. They liked to watch videos of themselves. They also really liked my chips, and Amelia became my self-appointed new best friend and assistant.

Amelia was there when my helmet fell to the ground. She was there when I dropped my lock. She took a break, or so I thought, but came back riding her bike.

Amelia kept an eye on me as I set up my nest for the night. She was eager to be my chip tester, and so were the rest of her siblings.

My personal security. This campsite has everything.  🙂

Got to Mass late at the Church of the Virgin. Everybody was storming the altar, touching the feet of the statue of Jesus and grabbing two small loaves of bread from an industrial bag in front of the first pew. Holy bread is as much as I could make out from a woman who spoke Italian.

Can you name this hymn or post a video of the entire thing?

Arrived late to Mass at the Church of the Virgin of Graces today in Civitavecchia, which is about 30 miles north of Rome. It was standing room only all the way to the back door.