They've got their Route 66, their celebrated Mother Road. The coast-to-coast path, joining east and west in a long typewrited strip of literature. Motorcycle myths are strong and often uncomfortable. Why should we Italians dream about that historical road while we have paths with a deeper meaning to us and a way older history than a route first established in 1926? Roman routes have thousands years old history and, well, we ride along them daily! Of course, I do have a t-shirt with it's nice R66 shield right above the heart, gently given to me by my brother-in-law after a coast-to-coast trip, but it's just a cool t-shirt with not much meaning to me. Instead I ride along SS 1 (or a part of it, at least, around 150 km long) very frequently. SS 1 is the road which, more than two thousand years ago, linked Rome with the Gaul provinces. Our true Mother Road. The road I owe respect to, the road I pay homage to. I wouldn't stick a Route 66 badge on the Chuggabug, it would be pure nonsense. That's why, instead, I put a SS 1 sticker upon it, to remember who we are and which road our wheels roll upon. Kilometres of pavement along the western coast of Italy, snaking through woods and dunes, countryside and mountains, northbound and then westbound up to the french border. We ride Vespas, we drink wine, we play mandolin and eat pizza. We're not americans, even if the movies tried to convince us for years. We ride along our Mother Road: Statale Aurelia, SS 1.