Let the coin choose what you read.

In the heart of that darkness we came to a fork with no road signs, and a difference of opinion arose over which way to ride on; as usual we turned to the firm and permanent law of our journey, the coin, and once heads or tails had settled the route, we set off.

We respected that rule and held to it so strictly that, as the saying goes, there was not a crack in it for a hair to slip through. Even if the option the coin chose turned out to be wrong, or landed us in challenges and trouble, we had no objection to it whatsoever.

64,000 Kilometres for Peace, “The Coin Rule”

It was around noon and we were on our way back from the embassy. The pavements and streets were fairly busy, with people coming and going, when all at once we were set upon from behind by several men. The assault was so swift, so lightning-fast, that we had no chance to react in any real way.

The really strange thing was the indifference of the passers-by and the shopkeepers in front of whose eyes we had been attacked; even after the robbers had gone, nobody had called the police.

64,000 Kilometres for Peace, “South Africa: Face to Face with Death”

I remember that one day a friend and I were watching a film whose story took place in Paris. The moment the Eiffel Tower appeared in one of the scenes, I told this contrary-minded friend of mine that one day I would have my photograph taken in front of that tower with my bicycle, at last!

But he had no answer for me beyond a despairing sort of smile and the pointed old saying that dreaming is no fault in the young.

64,000 Kilometres for Peace, the preface

On the day the new bicycles arrived, while we were busy in Hamid’s shop with our spanners, tightening and fitting them out, the largest and most dramatic terrorist attack of all took place, one that affected not only our journey but the whole of international relations.

Since the events of 11 September our difficulties had in fact doubled, and the embassies were treating an Iranian passport far more strictly than before.

64,000 Kilometres for Peace, “New Bicycles and 11 September”

The moment they reached us they hoisted us and the bicycles shoulder-high and carried us onto Iranian soil. The border officers, who had expected nothing of the kind, stamped the passports on the spot to head off any incident that might follow.

The moment of seeing our families, our friends and those dear to us again, after four years and three months away and a journey to five continents of the world, was beyond describing.

64,000 Kilometres for Peace, “The Iranian Border”

For us this journey was a great experience, and it showed us one thing: that we have to learn never to forget how to dream. Education, a job, a house, a car and the rest are the basic needs and the basic rights of every one of us, but we must not let them make a sacrifice of our dreams.

64,000 Kilometres for Peace, the epilogue

We decided to tell nobody of our plan to leave: our families would find out we were gone and think we had set off on a new ride inside Iran.

Three of us slipped out of the house in silence and went to the shop, and without turning on the lights, as quietly as we could, we began gathering our things and getting the bicycles ready.

From Pars to Petra on Two Wheels, “Setting Off in Silence”