My Fiat 500 Wasn’t Big Enough for My Doubts
The Italian Alps looked nothing like the postcards from the backseat of a rented Fiat 500. I kept thinking the switchbacks would shake something loose—some clarity, maybe, or at least a sense of arrival. Instead, it was just me, the engine whining, and the creeping suspicion that I was chasing someone else’s idea of adventure.
I stopped at a tiny mountain town, ordered a coffee I didn’t want, and watched locals ignore the view. They had errands, routines, a place to be. I had a map full of pins and nowhere I actually belonged. The Alps were stunning. I felt small, and not in the way I’d hoped.
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