On the Road is everyone's favorite literal journey. It holds the key to young hearts and their pursuit for youth, lust, thrill and excitement. As they sit in their comfy student bed their mind races with Sal's paradise. Alas, the American dream.
I had spent a lot of time with the idea of Kerouac. As an incredibly slow reader having the attention span of a gnat, I trooped through 112 pages between my calls at the call centre. Coming across a point I knew from the film I was enthralled to experience his written account of meeting a beautiful Mexican lady.
"Oh, we fight all the time. He wants me to go to work tomorrow. He says he don’t want me foolin around. Sallie, I want to go to New York with you."
"I don’t know, honey. I’ll miss you. I love you."
"But I have to leave."
"Yes, yes. We lay down one more time, then you leave."
We went back to the barn; I made love to her under the tarantula.
"Sure thing. You going with that little Mexican floozy?"
"She’s a very nice girl."
"Very pretty too. I think the bull jumped the fence. She’s got blue eyes." We talked about his farm.
Terry brought my breakfast. I had my canvas bag all packed and ready to go to New York, as soon as I picked up my money in Sabinal. I knew it was waiting there for me by now. I told Terry I was leaving. She had been thinking about it all night and was resigned to it. Emotionlessly she kissed me in the vineyard and walked off down the row. We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel, and looked at each other for the last time.
"See you in New York, Terry," I said. She was supposed to drive to New York in a month with
her brother. But we both knew she wouldn’t make it. At a hundred feet I turned to look at her. She just walked on back to the shack, carrying my breakfast plate in one hand. I bowed my head and
watched her. Well, lackadaddy, I was on the road again."
At this point I jumped from my seat and shook my head at Kerouac's lack of opportunity. To hear the rest of your life say she loves you and the deceit that came with a cavalier saying like 'See you in New York, Terry'. You take the chance, not moving onto the next person.
At this point my perspective on Kerouac as a person, not a writer, has changed. Like Hunter S. Thompson we admire his charisma and heroism associated with hard drugs and aimless circles. The writer has a thirst for experience and that is the reason they write or experience the tales they tell. It is half and half. In this scenario, I notice the same dissatisfaction when Leonardo Dicaprio cheated on the incredible French girl in the beach (2000). There is an arrogance to Kerouac in this instance that makes everything he does after seem flaccid. I stopped reading the book after. I couldn't absorb anything from his experiences anymore. That moment was too perfect and it remains a perfect reflection of affection, presenting the romantic battle between human beings. Dealing with life, ambitions and present circumstances.