Every now and then I walk with Renata Vrtarić to the ranch where her husband, Ivo, keeps his horses. Hidden from Motovun by the Brkač hill to the southwest, it is some forty-five minutes away. Renata is a good walker, too. We usually take the hike in the late afternoon, and Ivo brings us back to town in his pickup jeep. When the season permits, it is open both in front and back. As there are only two seats in the jeep, I stand in the back and clutch with both hands the bar that runs across the jeep above the open cabin. Ivo does his best to accelerate in the right places, and I surf through so many curves in the winding and bumpy road. But it was quite special yesterday evening. It was almost midnight when we finished our dinner there. The wind was rather strong. And Ivo drove like a bat out of hell. Much of the time I could not hear anything but the whistle of the wind. I surfed the sharp curves like a madman. I bent my knees at all the bumps with gusto. And I reached the parking lot in front of Klaudio’s feeling absolutely elated. This ride from the ranch to the top of the Motovun hill will stay with me for a long time. Willy-nilly, I had to put it into words, too.