On a recent Wednesday, my friend David got up early to go for a bike ride. After dressing for the still-chilly April morning, he left his St. Paul house and pedaled down to a local coffee shop to chat with friends. Next, he cycled over to the junior high school where his wife teaches and answered student questions about his odd-looking bike. Finally, he crossed the Mississippi River into Minneapolis and headed south toward the open road. He expects to get back home in October. Of 2011. David, you see, is cycling around the world. Again.

Now I like a good bike ride as much as the next person. But where I measure my rides in miles, David measures his in continents. And while accomplishing such a feat once would furnish most people with the moral superiority to spend the rest of their life on the couch, David simply enjoys the experience (as is evident from his bike blog) and is hungry for more. Since his first journey was essentially a “ride east until you get back home” affair, this trip will cover new ground and unfold in a mostly north and south orientation, bouncing between the poles (or as close as is practical.)

In David’s case, getting there is all of the fun, which is a good thing, since his destination is his origin. His enthusiasm for the journey itself, and especially for doing it again, reminds me of a high school English teacher’s advice to read Adventures of Huckleberry Finn three times. By following Jim and Huck down the river as a boy, again in middle age, and finally as an old man, you can experience the surprise and joy of an unchanging text meaning something very different on each reading. In a similar way, I imagine David will find the world at bike-level to be a different place than it was in the late ‘70s.

Before leaving, David asked me to do some photography for his website. Aware that much of his journey would traverse tropical zones, he wanted a banner image for his FAQ page that instantly communicated the northern climate of his home. Which partially explains how I found myself at dawn, near the end of March, lying on the worryingly thin ice that only partially covered Lake Harriet in Minneapolis. Nothing says “cold climate” like biking on water, David reasoned. I was there to help make that statement–and, I hoped, avoid earning a Darwin Award nomination in the process. To be honest, there’s no way I would have even considered such a thing had not David been so reassuringly confident that we’d be fine. While I was still casting a skeptical eye over the small gap of open water between the shore and the ice, David was hopping onto the ice with his bike. He was so sanguine and unafraid, it seemed impossible the ice would prove him wrong, so out I went.

His overall confidence and faith in his own well-being are among the more important things David takes with him on his journey. More than one of his friends wanted to know how he planned to pass through some of the world’s dicier spots with nothing but a bike for protection. David would smile and reply that sure, there were risks, but he wasn’t worried. When pressed, he’d simply state that, in general, he believed that people were good and wanted to help. Were it not for his previous circumnavigation, I’d be a little more concerned for his safety. But just as he seemingly willed the ice on Lake Harriet to hold us, I’m confident his very nature encourages those he meets to follow their nobler instincts.

Safe and happy travels, David. And save a little energy, because after finishing this trip, you still have one to go.