By the time I disembarked at the deserted bus station, my mother’s prediction seemed increasingly likely … I would start, but, ignominiously, not finish the trip. All signs were pointing to the downside as I began to lose my nerve. The girl on the bus I had been trying to chat up had the brain of a hummingbird and cared nothing for my daring. Furthermore, if no one cared about my success or failure except me, was that really enough of a cheering section?
Miraculously, my bike seemed to assemble itself on the station lawn, with little help from my twitching fingers, and I wobbled off toward town with the half-pitying cheers of a local youngster who had heard my story resounding in my ears like the applause of thousands. I could do this! Maybe.
Little riding was done this first day. I decided there was no need for heroics at this point; simply getting underway was enough of an accomplishment.