The night before I left Lithuania, Saulius and I stayed up talking. I invited him to the U.S., to my home in Wyoming. I told him about Yellowstone and Devils Tower, the mountains and the deserts.

"Finally," Saulius said softly, "I can come."

After we went to bed, I sneaked into Saulius's garage and took down Svabodny. With yellow, green, and red paint—the colors of Lithuania's flag—I painted a new name along the top tube: LAISVÉ... "Freedom" in Lithuanian.

I wish this story ended here.

The next morning, Saulius had a stroke. I found him in the garage lying on the concrete below Laisvé. I cradled him until the ambulance came. Palmira would not let me stay. I had a plane ticket back to the U.S., and she insisted I return home to my own family. Saulius is in rehab now, and it is uncertain whether he will bike again.

Even deep friendships are fragile. Someone you met on a journey years ago is out there. The friendship is not lost, only dormant, waiting for the spark of contact. Go. Find that person.