Onze nieuwe man in Brussel

Per 19 februari 2001 heeft de Federation of European Motorcyclists' Associations (FEMA) er een nieuwe kracht bij: Antonio Perlot. Hieronder kun je zijn eigen verhaal lezen.


Op de foto zie je MAG-voorzitter Kees Meijer samen met Antonio Perlot (rechts).

The story so far

I was born in Vienna on the 14th of November 1970, although I did not have the chance to get to know much of the city, since six months later I was already leaving for Italy. My father Enzo (as Italian as it may sound), and my mother Ulla (Swedish), had in fact to return to Rome because of my father's job. A year after, my sister Caterina was born. Ever since, and until my age of eighteen, my family travelled to different European countries, staying seven years in Brussels, then back to Italy for around three years, and eventually Lisbon for five years, where I finished attending the French school. In the meantime, these prolonged stays were coupled to frequent visits to close relatives in Sweden, France and Germany. Travelling and meeting different peoples and traditions has therefore always been something I liked a lot.

Once back in Italy and faced with the choice of what to do next, I decided to study Political Sciences at the university of Rome. It took me some time to get used to the Italian system, which I had never experienced before, also since I was working part-time during those years. But in the end, it was the right choice and corresponded to my will to go for an international career. This was most likely the result of having moved so much during my childhood. The following step was therefore to take a postgraduate course in international relations and to get ready for the exam to enter the Italian diplomatic service. Soon after finishing my military service, where I served as researcher, I had a go at the exam and, well... failed! So there I was, trying to figure out what would be next: my main study/work interests were European integration and development. After some useful thinking time-off, I assumed I just had to "naturally" follow such inclinations, and after attending a course organised by the International Committee of the Red Cross, I worked in 1999 for InterSos, an Italian Ngo, taking care of some contacts during the war in Kosovo. When Nino, the Secretary General, offered me to take part to a project in Belgrade, I had just received a positive reply from a public affairs consultancy based in Brussels. Gotten over the initial "embarrassment", I asked for a week to think it over.

Eventually, I chose to move to Belgium, to work in a European environment and also for the sake of the "good old days" (I have to admit-Nino please forgive me- that the prospect of being bike-less in Belgrade for a year also was a determinant factor...). So, by the time of my 29th birthday, I was back in Brussels with a few cardboard boxes and my motorcycle. At Epro, I took care of some of the contacts of the company with the EU institutions, mainly in the fields of Agriculture and Trade. That was until I saw the job advertisement FEMA had put in a Belgian motorcycling magazine... well, the rest is known to you!

The motorcycling side to the story

I remember writing in the application letter I sent to Bob that despite my age, I guessed one could say I had been a motorcyclist for over 27 years, that is from the time my father used to take me out for rides in Rome on his small blue Ciao moped. Those rides are probably among my clearest childhood souvenirs (and most probably also my father's, since sitting in the small seat attached to the handlebars, apparently my finger was constantly on the horn button). Anyway, I was most likely struck by lightning, since apparently I kept pointing at every passing motorcycle blabbering strange noises, not to mention my fiddling with any parked bike around the block (usually still hot and probably in an unstable and risky position, to my mother's despair).

At the age of 8, I kept waiting for the summer holidays to come and looking forward to our stay by cousins in the northern Italian region of Trentino, where I would be allowed to ride a Ciao (yellow, this time) through the vineyards and in the nearby mountains. At the age of 10, the scenario stayed the same, but with a different vehicle, though of the same flashy colour. An old Vespa Primavera 125, which I rode with my sister and a cousin on the back (right, that makes three, please do not report all of this to the carabinieri), and then eventually very slightly crashed against a wall (fortunately all the vehicle-and the rider-got were scratches). My cousins were therefore very happy when at the age of 13, I moved to Portugal. At least, they thought, their cross Maico bike and, later on, 600 Kawa sports bike were safe. I was however less pleased with my moving, since it meant waiting two extra years for my personal dream to come true (legal moped driving age in Portugal was 16, compared to Italy's 14). But finally the day came, and in December 1986, there was my small grey Sė in the garage, which looked so great to me though. So great to the point that with a couple of friends from school we toured most of Portugal, our 50 cc vehicles and our backs experiencing what overloading (two people, some luggage, bathing suit, at times camping apparel and lots of good humour) meant when it was coupled to the poor conditions of secondary roads.

Back in Rome for university and after nearly 45.000 kilometres (and a couple of tuned engines), I have to say that it was high time to give a rest to my companion. The time had also come to start driving a car: I however realised that, one, there was no reasonable way of going around Rome by car and two, that I really missed the feeling of riding. As though this may sound like it took me years to realise that, in reality the whole process actually only took around ten days, plus a nervous breakdown due to traffic!

So for some years, I mostly rode light and medium PTWs in an urban environment (though at times going for short two-wheeled expeditions to the Roman seaside, study permitting) and drove the car only when going to see my parents, first in Belgium (again?) and then to Germany. It was actually one summer in the early nineties that, on the way back from Brussels to Rome and driving my small cinquecento on the highway towards Basel, I slowly overtook a bunch of German bikers. That was it! I was experiencing again that strange and frenzy feeling of my childhood and although I had ridden motorcycles over the years, the time was right. First it was a second-hand Virago, then when finances made the move possible, I bought my present CB. Both have taken me around Italy with friends, and those are memories I really treasure. The Honda made the move to Belgium, prior the fitting of a top case and a small windshield (you know, the weather...) and has so far taken me around Benelux and the northern part of France. Further touring plans to Germany, Sweden and Portugal were making me consider another switch to a TDM. But then I saw the ad at FEMA...