Skipping around the Italian coastline – it’s well for some. Sometimes.
For Europeans, the idea of driving the Amalfi coastline on Italy’s South-Western flank is akin perhaps to driving West on Sunset Boulevard – suffused with impossibly romantic imagery culled from literature, music and film. At the very least, it would afford one’s passengers, if not the driver, with some rather memorable vistas – and in the right car, under the right conditions, a nice suntan.
Of course, in such a fantasy scenario, one would choose to traverse said coastal idyll in something suitable and appropriately salubrious – a nice 101-series Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider, say – or perhaps a Chapron-bodied DS Décapotable. But realistically, something smaller would make more sense – even a rented contemporary A-segment hatchback ought to be an amiable companion on such roads as these.
As it would happen, the steed chosen for this particular foray along the Costiera Amalfitana sported the blunted double chevron of Quai de Javel upon its rather peculiar looking nose, courtesy of a certain Ms. Jackson, late of that address – albeit not directly. An archive piece from June 2016, DTW’s Richard Herriott essays forth in search of, well it’s not all that clear really, but as we all know, it’s not always about where one goes (or indeed why), but how one gets there.
To satisfy any latent curiosity you may have about what on earth our man Herriott was up to, his impressions of Amalfi, not to mention those of his Franco-Japanese companion, it’s probably best you continue reading here.