An excerpt from a recent article of mine on Travel Generation:
On a previous trip to the USA, intoxicated with the ideas, attitude and writing of Jack Kerouac, I made a point of seeing as many Kerouac-related places as I could in my limited time.
I schlepped through the bars and streets of New York and visited Kerouac’s grave in his hometown of Lowell, MA.
I didn’t jump a train boxcar across the country but I did hunker down on too many Greyhound buses for journey’s into my Kerouac-inspired American imagination.
I visited Oregon and imagined myself as the character Ray from Dharma Bums watching for summer fires, contemplating nature. All the time I was reading Kerouac’s novels and in turn better understanding the cultural references I was walking past every day.
I finished my journey in San Francisco like any good Beat-acolyte would at Vesuvio cafe and City Lights book store.
