I expected to love this book. I guess I just love the idea of it.
Driving around the country using back highways – “blue highways” on maps, rather than the interstates drawn in red – would be a spectacular thing to do. Living out of your vehicle, or even camping where you could – also awesome.
This journey, though, or perhaps just the retelling of it, is a bit monotonous for me. The writing is lovely, make no mistake, but every town he passes through and all the people he meets sound exactly the same, except for the whangdoodle near Franklinville, North Carolina, that sounds deliciously like Sasquatch.
I started reading 11 days ago and I’m only on page 117. I’ll keep up with it until it’s due back at the library, but then I’ll return it and just daydream of making a similar journey of my own, rather than reading about someone else’s. It may be one of those “you had to be there” things.