I've said it before and I'll say it again: you learn a place through your windshield and your boots, not through a tour bus window. So when I ran across a piece over at Newsbytesapp about driving Tuscany, I read it twice. Italy's hill country is one of those places built for a set of keys and no particular hurry.

Tuscany is basically the Italian version of the Ozarks with better wine and older barns. Rolling hills, cypress-lined lanes coming straight at you like something out of a painting, little stone towns sitting up on ridges where somebody a thousand years ago decided the view was worth defending. You don't rush through that. Can't, really.

The article walks through five stops worth building a route around, and it's a sensible list. You get the heavy hitters like Florence, which you owe yourself at least a day of even if crowds aren't your thing, and Siena, where the medieval old town is still wrapped in its walls and the shell-shaped central piazza will stick with you long after the museum exhibits fade. Smaller gems are in there too, including the famous thermal springs at Saturnia, where hot sulfured water runs over white stone terraces out in the middle of open country. Tell you what, after a long day behind the wheel, a free hot spring in a pasture sounds about right to me.

What I appreciate about the piece is the pacing advice. It pushes you to rent a car and set your own schedule instead of riding a train past everything worth stopping for. That's the whole argument for road trips anywhere, whether it's Tuscany or a gravel road outside Eminence, Missouri. The good stuff sits between the destinations. The roadside winery you almost didn't stop at. The hilltop church at golden hour. The little café where nobody speaks English and the food's better for it.

A few words of practical sense if you go. Some of those old town centers restrict driving, so park outside and walk in, because the fines will find you eventually. The back roads are narrow and the locals drive them like they own them, which they do. And get the smallest car you can live with. A little Fiat fits places a full-size American truck wouldn't even attempt, and I say that as a man who loves his truck.

My fall run through the Ozarks is still on the books, and this article has me half wondering whether I shouldn't add a passport stamp somewhere down the road. Tuscany in the autumn, when the grape harvest is done and the hills go gold, has to be about as good as driving gets.

If you want the full list of stops with the routing suggestions, give the original article a read. Then start saving your lira. Euros, I mean. Shows you how long I've been dreaming about this one.