Curve connoisseurs among themselves

The asphalt ribbon winds like a restless snake through the heart of Abruzzo, repeatedly zigzagging around tight hairpin bends and sharp turns. Sometimes the view opens up into the wide valley, glittering in the morning sun, and sometimes the shadows of dense forests swallow you up.

And towering above it all, almost unreal, is the Gran Sasso – still shrouded in snow at the end of May, as if it refused to part with the cold. The air is clear, almost biting, filled with the scent of resin and the promise of an eternal summer.

On this road, every breath is a piece of freedom – and every meter a small triumph.