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| King of the Road |
“Twenty years of fast living - there's not much left, and my kids are all screwed up. Don't do what I have done." - Neal Cassady
If he was just a clown, a hyperactive dunce, a celebrity buddy, he would have been abandoned by American literature. But Neal Cassady always makes into the footnotes. He’s always there, On the Road with Kerouac or On the Road with Kesey or wherever – he always seems to be moving, vibrating, jabbering and anxious to devour Life just before it devours him.
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| Cassady & Kerouac: Hit the road Jack |
He drives the beatniks. He drives the hippies. He drives a neon-noir zeitgeist into the perfumed
arms of flower power. He belongs to mid-century America (I like Ike but I dig
Kennedy), a post-war Huckleberry where the Mississippi meets macadam. And like
all travelers who know the real purpose of moving, he never takes baggage because
the game is about escaping, not finding.
- 1968. His last
breaths of life fog cold metal of a railway track at night. There he is, under a
Mexican moon, hanging on, alone, the Holy Goof slowly slips behind the wheel for a velvet drive to the stars.
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| Always keep moving |