Riding on Stelvio Pass in memory of my dad

There was only one appointment my dad wouldn’t have missed: riding on Stelvio Pass for the annual bikes meeting in July. The road going to Stelvio Pass is undeniably one of the most suggestive of Northern Italy, and Europe.

For him, it represented another year that had gone by, despite cancer, and having to ask a friend to put his bike on the kickstand, because he couldn’t anymore.

For my dad it meant the world being able to be there, again, as if he still had a chance to defeat the disease after all. Until the last summer in 2015, when he passed away in August.

My father’s greatest passion was driving his bike on the local mountains, he gave him bliss, and a sense of irrepressible freedom. When he was riding nothing mattered but the driving, and the road.

Since he left, Luca and I took his beloved GS, to keep it go, instead of him. And off we drove to Stelvio once again, in his memory. Today, if he had been alive, he would have been happy to know that we kept on with his tradition.

Until my dad’s bike will carry on, we’ll ride on Stelvio every summer, and I will remember that part of me that has gone with him, and that part of him that stayed in me and keeps getting stronger.



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