Did I tell you about the time when, last summer while I was in Lucca, Italy, I was supposed to take a nice bicycle tour around the town wall (as I’d done very memorably a number of years prior), and on this tour we were meant to stop periodically at foodie places?

Well, that didn’t end up happening.

What did end up happening is… the tour company had to cancel that tour, but wanted to honor my booking, so they offered a replacement tour via the tourist office (or whatever). The replacement tour would be on e-bicycles, bike around the wall, and then pop out of town to a winery.

“When in Rome…”, so I accepted.

Did you catch that part about the “e-bicycle”? Means there’s a motor of some kind. I am 4’11” and rental bicycles seldom “fit” me; this one was no exception. On an e-bicycle, you’ve got to exhibit additional stability and control — kinda like the time I booked that local horseback riding package on Groupon, and when we got there, they were polo ponies, complete with polo jockey-style saddles and more giddy-up than bargained for. But I digress.

The tourist office is located next to the train station just outside the town wall, which means you have to cross a major road to get back over to where the wall is. The wall itself is fairly flat and wide, making it easy to practice the bicycle’s controls. You can also turn off the electronics, though having the “added zip” when navigating an incline is very helpful.

While cycling around the wall, someone’s wheel went flat, so we all had to wait for his replacement bike to show up, and then we were on our way again. After about three-quarters of the wall, I’d guess, we came upon the section that would take us back outside the wall, on our way across town, and finally toward the winery.

So, here I am, on a too-big-for-me electronic bike for the first time, keeping up with a group of strangers, navigating busy town roads, a few neighborhood streets, and at least one narrow 2-way bridge, wondering how far away this winery is going to be.

When a car nearly swiped me on the bridge whilst I was in the midst of an electronic surge on my bicycle, causing me to panic and brake… I found myself suddenly springing forth off my seat, landing down in the gravel with a freshly skinned knee.

I re-mounted my bicycle with chagrin, and blood trickling down my leg, put on a brave face, and hoped the wine at the other end would be of award-winning caliber.

Though the landscape became almost immediately more “rural”, the real hills also quickly began to appear in front of us. During a group break to appreciate our surroundings, I noticed a roadside fountain. I parked my bike and made my way over to the fountain to clean off my knee and leg. Oh boy, was it skinned up! And it hurt!

May I just say… I felt like a real trouper by this point.

At length, we arrived at the winery. I was provided an opportunity to cleanup and dress my injury, and I may have taken an aspirin. After the obligatory property tour and barrel-side presentation, there was good company to be found in my fellow tourists whilst we sat at a shaded table in the middle of the vine-covered field. I enjoyed a lovely vegetarian meal along with a flight of tasty wines.

All too soon, it was time to get back on the electronic bicycles.

Remember how, when you first learned to drive, you might have been so proud to have driven yourself somewhere, but then that feeling quickly subsided to dread when you realized that you actually had to drive back home again?

We went back to town a different way. After about a couple of miles — honestly, I don’t recall… it wasn’t immediately, but it was early enough in our return trip that I began to feel overwhelmed by the road back — another narrow bridge, another car, another unruly brake attempt (but thankfully not another visit to the gravel, nor injury), I looked at the guide and said, “I’ve had enough. My confidence is so undermined at this point…”

He allowed some of the group who’d asked to continue back toward town on their own to leave, while he and a couple of others stayed behind with me to wait for the van. The van came, the blasted bicycle was secured in its hold, and I was given the front passenger seat. The guide and remaining tourists cycled on from there.

I received a refund — they insisted.

The next day would begin the reason for my trip to Italy in the first place: a yoga/wellness retreat. Let me tell you, there was no yoga position that felt good with an open wound on my knee. But that’s a story for another day.

Lesson: Beware of substitutes, no matter how good you think the wine might be.