portugalIn 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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