League Day - June 4, 2012

With the “LIGAZA IN MG” on June 3, the Emilia Romagna Regional Center successfully tested for the third time the DAY RANGER formula (guide of the day) created by its new director Vladimiro Vecchi, also known as “ER master”.
The action is rolling: the LIGAZA has begun, a re-enactment of a peasant festival from times gone by, directed by AZDORA RANGER Lella Damicelli who, wearing a themed costume, directed with Fellini-esque mastery the azdore ladies from the provinces of Bologna, Ravenna, Forlì-Cesena and Rimini, in a thrilling performance as the undisputed protagonists of the day.

{gallery}rallies/ligaza-7730{/gallery}

Father Fausto, a Don Camillo-style country priest and DRIVER RANGER for the occasion, led the caravan of MGs packed with all sorts of goodies along a route where even the sophisticated aviator engineer Bellingeri had to lay down his arms in resignation.
A marvelous journey, one that could only be known by those with high-level connections, like Don Fausto, who, despite Google Maps, showed us heaven on earth. Thank you, Father, you truly are... and even a little Saint... Giovese!
A quick refill to a radiator in withdrawal with the only available liquid, ruby red in color, with finely crafted tannins and a final almond note and then off towards the destination in Poggio Rimini.
The charm of a country-style house awaits us, immersed in a beech forest, which witnessed the largest landing in living memory after D-Day in Normandy:
I saw everything being unloaded; you have no idea what could come out of the trunk of an MG headed for a LIGAZA. All of this was perfectly organized, with Paolo Del Biondo, strictly on a diet, sitting down with his jaw already working just two minutes after disembarking, and the ladies busying themselves among the tables to ensure that no one, and I repeat, no one, would leave the table with a feeling of hunger.
And while the accordion of the octogenarian Enzo and the guitar of the timeless Derico entertained the azdore and the farmer drivers in dances to the last cue, a gloating master in signed parananza was preparing to arrange the primaries for the election of the Sangiovese destined to defend the colors and the honor of the house at TO.RO.
Father Fausto resumes the scene: “Peace and good, brothers, it's time for confessions.”
And so it was that Giorgio Squadrani, urged on by his charming wife Rosy and the infectious, fragrant laughter of Cristina Agnoletti, literally knocked us off our feet, "confessing" to us, with unparalleled irony, the adventures and misadventures of when he, invited on a Caribbean vacation with his wife and two daughters, left home with a wolf fur coat (the then-fashionable outfit) and 80 sandwiches, fearing his daughters would starve. A stage comedian couldn't have done better.
Our final thought goes to our less fortunate friends who, despite experiencing the stress of a land that continues to shake, have the great strength to react as did Giorgio Camellini and Valter Capelli, who with their red MG A's came all the way from Crevalcore, a town very close to the epicenter of the earthquake, apologizing for the slight delay because they had been dancing all night.