I can be many shapes at once, yet I’m treated as a single thing. You hand me over before you ever see your seat. Machines weigh me, tags rename me, and belts return me. I travel where you travel, but never by your side. You watch a crowd of items pass, waiting for the moment you recognize all of me together. What am I?

What do cars, goats, trains, antelopes, and orchestras all have? Mess with the bull and get the ...

The more there is the less you see. What is it?

At my mouth you might hesitate, fearful of the unknown Enter me cautiously and build courage as you explore The deeper you go, the less I reveal What am I?

In law, challenging the credibility of a witness In government, a trial of an official that may result in their removal Start with an abbreviation of your existence, followed by a fuzzy fruit. Finish with the last four letters of a sidewalk material.