I HAVE a month to go. The tickets are printed, the trip back on the train has been arranged, and new tyres have been wrenched to the bike. So, as I sit now in that wilderness of time that separates the end of preparations from the journey to the airport, I start to wonder...

I wonder, for instance, who is riding the Katy Trail in the last week of May? I'll be on and off the path as I head west. So you'll catch me if you're a fleet, clean-limbed athlete or we will cross with a wave and, I hope, exchanged words and e-mail addresses if you're riding the other way. I look forward to meeting.

And then, who will be on the TransAm route in the Hutchinson region in the first week of June? The same thing applies: it will be a delight to cross paths. Because that's the quiet joy of bike-touring, isn't it? You get that glimpse of a slow-moving shape, wider at the bottom than the top, and you watch how it evolves. It could be a Spaniard heading to market on a donkey. Or a slow-moving motorbike. But what you want it to be turns out to be exactly what you want it to be: a loaded cyclist coming the other way.

I am always the first to swing to the other side of the road. I can't resist. Who will it be? What tales will they bring of far-flung lands and perils and pleasures still to come? What devilry and disasters have they been through?

Do you feel the same way? I bet you do. You'd need a cold heart not to, wouldn't you?

So, if life is about to bring us together, please, please do drop me a line. I'd love to know who you are.