IN THE BEGINNING he was pushed and pulled in a wicker baby carriage. He first moved himself mechanically by pedaling a borrowed toy auto. His first tricycle had a horn with a black squeeze bulb; his second a thumb-operated bell, which he preferred because he didn’t have to let go of the handlebars to sound it. All told, he had four tricycles, getting a new one each time he became too tall to pedal comfortably. He used his last tricycle mostly for coasting, riding down the long hill beside his apartment house, legs held out to avoid the spinning pedals. He taught himself to roller-skate by walking on the skates with a heavy step so the wheels wouldn’t turn, then by pulling himself along rails and walls. When his brother built a large surfboard of canvas-covered balsa wood he was given his brother’s small solid-pine board, on which he rode modest waves near shore. He liked being in his brother’s sailboat; the thought, when the boat was becalmed, that eventually there would be wind and then more wind reassured him about the future. In fall and spring he went on slides and swings in playgrounds. It was said that by methodical increase of momentum one could turn full circle in a swing, but he never saw anyone do it, and his own attempts failed when, after he reached heights of forty-five degrees or so above the bar, centrifugal force slackened and the swing dropped with a lurching snap. In early winter he and his friends fitted discarded license plates onto roller skates, sat on the plates, feet tucked up, and rode down steep empty streets, steering by leaning to one side, and ditching one another like stock car racers. He liked to ice-skate and was good at it. He fell on the ice one day, cutting the inside of his left wrist with a skate blade. He later showed the scar to a girl as evidence of a suicide attempt. The first time he went horseback riding he asked for the mildest horse in the stable and was given a nag with a sunken middle and a sly look. As soon as he and his companions were on the trail the horse turned back. He pulled one rein, then the other; finally he held a rein so tight that the horse’s head was forced about; still the horse continued to the stable. He declined the offer of another mount and waited for his friends. In the army he joined the paratroopers, made one practice jump, decided that air was an unnatural medium for human locomotion, and quit. He taught himself to drive by practicing on an army Jeep in a parking area for hours. He and another soldier, also learning to drive, took the Jeep out one night and ran it into the officers’ barracks at thirty miles an hour. After being taken to the hospital and examined they were put into the stockade and held for misappropriation of government property; but the war was almost over, and no one seemed interested in pressing charges. He bought his first car for one hundred dollars, a 1939 black Ford salesman’s coupe, so called because it had one seat and a large trunk. He had been put off by army authority and used the car for two years without license or registration. One night at a party to which he had gone without his wife he dropped an ice cube down the front of the dress of a married woman he knew slightly. She was there without her husband, was amused, which surprised him, and suggested they go to her apartment. On the way there his car struck another car stopped at a red light; she was thrown against the dashboard, he cut his nose on the rearview mirror. They tried to make love at her apartment, but she complained of pain and he was impotent, for the first time in his life. The next day she called to say that three of her ribs were broken and asked him not to tell anyone about the evening. When his first novel was published the woman’s husband reviewed it with inappropriate harshness. After countless traffic tickets for moving and standing violations, some of which he paid immediately and some late, he one day decided to obey the law meticulously and hasn’t had a ticket since. He will take riding lessons, hoping to please a woman he has fallen in love with, an expert rider. His teacher, either misjudging his experience, sensing his eagerness, or wanting to embarrass him, will make him canter and gallop on the first lesson. Though frightened, he will be exhilarated and successful. He will admire the mass and power of horses but despise their peevishness and servility. When the young woman refuses to ride with him or explain why she won’t he will give the sport up. His need for exercise and taste for movement will diminish to the point that he will not leave his home on weekends if he can help it.