Rund um die Hund!

Finally, these boring, miserable plains are crossed and curves can be enjoyed like an old wine!

However, right at the beginning of the first road, a piece after Reschitz, there was a terrible production error by the winemaker and the plonk had a really nasty taste of vinegar.

There were 40 kilometers of finest, slippery gravel, which made it far less fun for the unnecessarily present to crawl through the bends, and he dearly wished he had chosen a different road for his curve fun.

Otherwise, it must be noted that the local roads so far are really not bad and are kept in good shape, except for a few representatives of their kind (but you can have bad luck in any case).

In Italy, the unworthy traveler even had the air in his deformed skull mixed up on the highway, and his sulci and gyri turned into a tiny, tiny brain salad that not even a local street dog would be satisfied with.

There seem to be more than enough of these barking furballs here, and the tasty, thick legs of the noble Gaijin were obviously a delightful target for those wauzis to slobber and nibble on, but the noble steed repelled any proposed calf tasting and brought the fetid BOSAMO in all its breathtaking glory to its destination.

But not only dogs populate the bertasche hunting grounds from time to time, no, running steaks and railway cows also had a cozy, ruminating gathering on the asphalt and reminded me to be cautious.

Oh, the unworthy traveler would like to add that he has had internet everywhere so far, and that's why he really wonders what devil drives the Germans, that from the border to them there is a rough, dry data desert where bits and bytes simply wither in the landscape and kick the bucket somewhere On Air...

P.S.: I have long sent correct spellings into the desert!