In 1988, as an 18 year old, I bought a one-way flight to Southern Portugal.
I had been living in England. My plan was to ride my bike back to the U.K. I had a paltry $400, clearly an inadequate sum for the trip. But I was dumb enough to think I was loaded.
Fortunately, I met gracious people along the 1,600-mile journey. They offered places to stay and meals to eat. I never asked for help. I didn’t think I needed it.
Fortunately my face must have said I was friendly, famished and foolish.
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