Not for acrophobics

My dad sent me this today. He must know that my always severe fear of heights has been cranked up a notch and is now a full blown phobia. Mr. Nag deserves a medal for putting up with my gasping, clutching at the seat and stamping on a non-existent brake pedal when we drove along the Costa Brava and the Pyrenees. I lost it at one point when we were descending from the hill town of Castelnou. We were in the outside lane on a winding road with nothing but a 12 inch strip of gravel between us and a steep cliff. A large Mercedes came around the corner and forced our little blue Peugeot onto that gravel strip. I felt the crunch of gravel under the tires and I started moaning and squealing, convinced that we were about to topple into oblivion. I now know the meaning of sheer terror. This video made my stomach churn.