it was as if the last thirty-six hours had never happened , as if the last three years had not happened , as if his life had evaporated into the daydream of a small child , riding the carousel in golden gate park in san francisco , on his first trip back to the states , a marathon journey by ship and by car , his mother standing there , watching him proudly , and himself sucking his melting popsicle , holding on tightly , hoping that the music would never stop , the carousel would never slow , the ride would never end .