If neither Air France nor American Airlines sends me to an icy death, I should get to Boston on May 16. I am almost depressed at how smoothly all this is going. Last year I had conversations with Germany and India and even when I got to the airport there was doubt if I could take my bike. It was only a little plane, the airline said - albeit that it had more than 80 seats - and I was lucky there weren't many passengers or the bike wouldn't have gone in with all their luggage.

Well, this time everybody from the American embassy onwards seems to be rushing to make things simple. Even Air France, a troublesome airline at the best of times, limited the buggeration factor to charging me a dozen euros to get the bike as far as Paris. I am by nature optimistic but I do start to wonder if some catastrophe isn't being saved up for me, like those poor people on this site who crossed the Atlantic only to find that the moment their bikes were unloaded at Heathrow, the baggage loaders drove a tractor over them.

The plan is to get to Boston, and there I'll be met at the airport by Ray Hurteau, a new friend through the Warm Showers list. I'll spend two nights at his house and, between them, set about sightseeing and buying the things I'm not allowed to fly with, like gas canisters for my stove. Last time I rode in America, I set off riding next morning, which was fine but did make it harder to get over jet lag.

So, should you be in what I'm told is the most European of American cities on May 17, and you see a genuine European with a strange sun tan (I am a cyclist, therefore I have a silly tan), do speak kindly to him and guide him wherever he wants to go. He will be touchingly grateful.