When the opportunity of roaming the Apennines between Tuscany and Emilia-Romagna (two Italian regions) with an expert guide as Pietro, who organizes off-road tours, presented itself, I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm; just as I could not hold back the child in me when I saw the Beta 250 that I would ride through the green slopes that surrounded us. While I was putting on of all the clothing and protections needed for enduro riding, I was reminded of the investiture of a knight preparing for battle. The village of Anghiari enclosed by ancient walls typical of medieval townaccentuated this feeling. I felt like a real chieftain who, astride his warhorse, said farewell to friends and mate and left for battle, both for himself and for the territory, to conquer the coveted summit meter by meter. To hear the metallic mumble of the single-cylinder engine of my warhorse took me back to when I was a kid recklessly shooting along green field pathways. However, this time, the route ahead of me was much tougher with steep, stony, uphill slopes. Only the wise advice of master Pietro and the exuberant power of the Italian bike enabled me, with some measure of pride,to ride along these tracks. Occasionally I felt fatigued: to ride the bike standing puts one’s arms to work while trying to restrain the front end that fights with rocks that cause tank slappers. You must have some muscle to fight these forces and, since this is not my case, I tired very soon. But it was nice to alternate challenging tracks with easier ones where to lift dust clouds from the ground which was very dry due to lack of rain in this scorching summer. Here I was able to savor the beauty and dive into the landscape surrounding us: extensive, wild and uncontaminated woodlands, interspersed by pastures where herds of “chianina” breed cows quietly grazed, undisturbed by our passing. I was fascinated by the small villages with a few stone houses we would come across; visiting them by foot or slowly by motorbike made me plunge in a sleepy world where time hadstopped a few hundred years ago. It was nice to greet residents who warmly greeted you back just as if I were a real knight who respectfully crossed their village. In these occasions I would think of Cri, my sweethart, who also had a full agenda through historical villages in this part of the country: was she experiencing the same feelings as me? I was sure she was because this is a magic land. I was very tired after hours of off-road but, nonetheless, I would have happily gone on to see unique, breathtaking panoramas; however, a few aches due to two slips convinced my tutor that it was time to quit. When I got off the Beta I surely was not the strong and proud knight of that morning; I could not control my muscles which were sore with lactic acid, but an emotion I didn’t feel for years was alive in me.