Our train car stumbled through an awkward bend, jerking me from my feverish, travel-bowel dreamings. While I drowsed, John scribbled gadget sketches into a soggy journal and munched old roasted chestnuts from a paper cone. Now the Spanish morning poured through the window curtains, so we checked our watches, both of us, and made ourselves ready for Bilbao. For four weeks we had hitchhiked and trained north through Portugal, enjoying brilliant hospitality and cheap lodgings wherever we went...