On My Road
Over an impromptu dinner party last Thursday, some friends had mentioned the New York Times. By the end of church service on Sunday, I was craving a Sunday New York Times with my cup of coffee in the sun. I suffered through Golden Gate Park's Summer of Love concert traffic to get to Peet's coffee on Geary and 16th, only to find that they don't sell any newspapers.Slumped in defeat, I drove home, redeemed only by a spacious parking spot right outside my apartment building. Once upstairs, it dawned on me: I live a block from Green Apple Books! They MUST have it! Only this time, I would call first.
They have it! What's your name we'll save a copy for ya! Happily, I change into my favorite shirt and jeans, and trodded over in my flip flops, in the sun.
I thought of you guys when I read On My Road* by Holland Cotter in the Arts/Leisure section. It starts well, and ends well; everything in the middle is great too. I hope you'll enjoy it. I'll share my thoughts in the comments. You do too, ya hear?
Happy Reading,
- Kayan
* It's much better on paper, held in the flesh making crinkly sounds as a newspaper should, accompanied by a cup of joe. Try to make the best of it on a computer screen.... =p
posted by Kayan at 10:18 AM
4 Comments:
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I can imagine having the same enthusiasm at the romantic idea of riding a bus across the country. I can also imagine myself having the same awakening as Cotter had: finding very early that the reality of riding a bus is everything but romance.
The piece highlights one of the biggest lessons I've learned in the past few year: it's about the journey and what we learn along the way, not the destination. (Hmm. When we sit down and think about what we learned, that's the real destination?)
I liked that the author came back from his trip a changed young man, seeing that the world is really smaller than he'd assumed. It's also neat that at the end of the trip, he re-evaluated his heroes, and notes we are all just human; and Kerouac, "just another scared white boy." Having a new perspective about what is truly courageous and romantic, he finds new heroes as well.
In life's journeys: Take the good advice, pay attention to the people brought your way, and listen to good music.
The first thing I looked at was the map, and so the first thing I noticed was that in 1964, most/all of the interstates didn't exist. Like in the movie "Cars" before the straight roads get bulldozed through the hills, bypassing the small towns forever. The darkest line on that map goes through the South; I-40, I-70, and I-80, the road I've travelled most, haven't yet been straight-line inked across the land.
Greyhound's a funny thing. I've haven't heard of anyone having a good time on it. Most of the stories are of the I'll-never-do-that-again variety. Two friends, separately, lived through serious, injury-sustaining vehicular accidents as part of their bus experience. I don't remember the other, but in one case, the driver fell asleep. Me, my only bus ride was a relatively short red-eye from Vegas to LA, on which I actually slept surprisingly soundly while hunched over on the motorcycle helmet in my lap. But I do remember that feeling of the Vegas depot was pretty grim: 1 am, 98 degrees and humid (after a daytime high of 116), fluorescent-lit, gray, dirty, the poorest of the travelling hierarchy trying to get on buses that had been grossly overbooked.
The Fullerton bus/train depot at 7am was a lot more pleasant, though. Having a friend pick you up is a comfort and a blessing. And for the last leg of that trip, I had the luxury--and also the ordeal--of buying a bike from him and riding it ten hours back to SF.
Travel is a good thing.
heya k! thanks for that read! (and i continue to thank you for all the other reads this year...).
loved this line the most:
"Were Kerouac and I traveling the same country? Why had I ever thought of him as brave-hearted and generous? He was just another scared white boy, like me."
honest and insightful! also loved the teaser (the return trip...i want that story! and his eventual path to art...?) forgot to look at the images, will look again at the pictures. (me, forget to look at pictures? weird.)
i've had a coupla bus trips, not all bad, but in one i was left behind at a stop...everything i had was either in the luggage compartment, or in my backpack above the seat. but i luckily managed to reconnect with my luggage in the end. in another, i was thankfully seated behind a hyper little girl. we managed to keep each other amused all the way from chicago to minneapolis/st. paul. if it weren't for her bouncing face, it would have been an interminable trip. but as it was, it was a great mini-adventure.
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