I'm sick of my car mates, but because I was so annoyed by going through the same place, I like to try with my car new roads, second category, that go outside the guide roads. It is worth it: in most cases it does not exceed ten, twenty, thirty minutes; the loss is very small compared to the benefits. We entered Villanueva de Sierra on the last trip before a car companion left breakfast – any excuse to divert it is good. In the hometown of Miguel Servet.

I knew the name, since Alfonso Sastre wrote him Flores rojas para Miguel Servet, a novel, without fiction – that Jon Etxaide did with Etxahun Barkox. A novel, you think, is not the best way to get to know the biography of a historical character. Let us not forget, however, that a novel can help us understand the human experience better than the most rigid history book. Servet was a doctor and a theologian, especially a questioned character, of conviction, perhaps fearful. Some recognize him as a Navarre national, since he once signed in Tudela, but he seems more like a ploy to escape the persecutors. The first described the circuit of blood circulation; in the organization of the Church, more revolutionary than reforming, disturbing for Catholics and Protestants. He was charged with: Deny the Holy Trinity, the divinity of Christ, and that it was a pantheist. He was 42 years old when he was killed in a fire in Geneva in 1553. By order of Calvin. “Killing a person is not defending a doctrine; it is killing a person,” Castellón wrote.

In the Hondarribia-Barcelona corridor, I have all too often seen Aragon as a formality, even something annoying; better if it did not exist. However, by daring to the secondary roads, we have better known those of Servet. Little ones that we would never have known if we had left the freeway.