We had waited 2 days to get the bikes, they needed to be checked to make sure they were fit for use.  We are here in the off-season and the bikes hadn't been used since the last rays of the Italian summer had faded away.  It's 5 degrees now in late January, some rain and slate grey skies.  6 km into the ride, I lost my colleague.  I figured he had stopped to take a photograph so I crossed the road to take a closer look at a ruin while I waited for him.  The ruin sat heavy and alone by the sea.  I saw my colleague on the other side of the road and called him over.  He walked up to me and handed me his bicycle pedal.  Welcome to southern Italy.  

I decided to inspect my own bike and discovered the front light had no on/off button but there was a button hole where one could poke a long fingernail and thereby hit something electrical that did turn the light on.  Fortunately, I carry a slightly longer fingernail on my left pinkie for such occasions.  

And the rear light just didn't work.  

And so we stood at the ruin, in the middle of nowhere, one bike with no pedal and the other with dodgy lights, while darkness looked at us from across the sea.   There was however, a man close by, he was loading all manner of fishing gear into his Fiat and it was evident that he had been harvesting the fruits of the sea.   I approached him while wheeling the bike towards him with one hand and brandishing the pedal in the other.  "Mee skuzee" I cried, "Buonjorno".  He replied, "jorno" which I have learned is the casual reply in these parts. His face was crusty, old and weather beaten.  His facial mortar had been eroded by time itself leaving deep wrinkles, in sympathy with the ruin that looked down at us in silence.  I gestured what I imagined to be a spanner turning action against the pedal and his kindly eyes registered understanding.  He said "no" but held his finger up in a gesture for me to wait a moment and he walked over to one of his buckets.  He pulled an old towel from the bucket, walked over to the bike and knelt down.  With his gnarly stubby fingers he did his best to screw the pedal into the shank using the towel to improve his grip.  It was of no use but I was touched by his efforts to help these two Australians.  I said a cheerful "grazie" and smiled thanks to the fisherman as he walked back to his Fiat and fishing gear.