Iwasn't on the flatboard before the truck roared off; I lurched, a rider grabbed me, and I sat down. Somebody passed a bottle of rotgut, the bottom of it. I took a big swig in the wild, lyrical air of Nebraska. 'Whooee, here we go!' yelled a kid in a baseball cap, and they gunned up the truck to 70 and passed everybody on the road. 'We been riding this sonofabitch since Des Moines. These guys never stop.'"

Who else but Jack Kerouac, and what else but his immortal, delirious celebration of American hyper-mobility, On the Road ?