black chevrolet

Travel is like a fantasy, an empty, sometimes immoral but endlessly attractive dream?  Like small children we are drawn to it, not in malice but in curiosity because moving objects fascinate us and the sun lights the landscape in bold colors.  There is always something new to see and always something to ward off boredom, whether one sleepily realizes it or not.  The simplicity of life and its weaknesses and appetites, endless appetites are most easily found on the road.  

There is a book written about this and it is called "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac.  I'm going to go finish reading it.  It's awesome.