large circular high-def screen that
revealed the sporty car’s superbrain—and
it was a very smart-looking brain, with a
mapping system so intense that when I
chartedmy path south of Madrid it felt as
if I were on an aerial bombing run.
“
Prepare tomake a sharp right turn,” the
computer’s voice said, and as I followed
the directions to El Toboso I thought of
Don Quixote and his sidekick navigator,
Sancho Panza. Now I hadmy own diminu-
tive squire too—the Mini—and I named
him Sancho.
“
Prepare to exit,” Sancho said, and so
I did.
“
Please exit now,” he added, which I
thought was pushy, but I overlooked it.
Sancho had our best interests at heart.
I had selected theMini for this journey
assuming that, unlike conventionally
sized cars, it would be able to navigate the
cramped, cobblestoned centers of Spain’s
oldest cities. My hunchwas confirmed as
I worried the Mini over a curb and into
the labyrinth that is El Toboso.
I got out and followed the signs to the
reputed original home of the woman
who inspired Dulcinea, the sweet
peasant whose beauty Quixote found
“
superhuman”—“her hairs are gold, her
forehead Elysian fields, her eyebrows
rainbows, her eyes suns, her cheeks
roses, her lips coral, her teeth pearls,
her neck alabaster ... .” And so on.
The house itself wasmade fromold
stones. It had tall wooden doors, like a
castle. There was a sign out front for
tourists. I read it. “Closed for lunch,” it
said. And that was that. So I got back
into the Mini and,
using the joystick
that ran the naviga-
tion system, scrolled
aroundtofindthecoordi-
nates and let trusty Sancho
knowwherewewere goingnext.
“
Prepare to make a sharp left turn,”
he said, and we were off to see beautiful
things. Spain is arguably the finest coun-
try in the world for road-tripping because
roadside advertisements are forbidden
by law; even the biggest highways here
can feel as unclu ered as country roads.
We drove through a land so flat the
shepherds who raise sheep here to make
Manchego cheese can watch their flocks
run away all day long. In the fields I
could see tractors and
whitewashed hacien-
das and wildflowers:
yellow daisies mixed
with
amapolas
,
the
wild red poppies that look
like cherry lollipops as they
spread through rows of olive trees.
Along the way, Sancho and I drew
intrigued glances—the quintessentially
British-looking late-model rally car, zip-
ping past old tractors chugging along
watermelon fields. Sancho was speedier
than I’d thought, yet held the road firmly,
and we passed many cars, o en two at a
time. Anhour laterwe arrived at Campode
Criptana, home to those
molinos
,
or wind-
mills, that Quixote deemed “monstrous
giants ... to engage in ba le and slay.”
The day was growing cloudy as we
emerged at the top of the town, and there
FRIEND AND FOES
Clockwise
from left, the famed Campo de
Criptana windmills that bedeviled
Don Quixote; the poppies of
Andalusia; a statue of the knight-
errant himself, in Madrid
26
DISPATCHES
||
ROADTRIP
MADRID
TOLEDO
ALMAGRO
EL TOBOSO
CAMPO DE
CRIPTANA
MAP BY JEFF QUINN
