Devon: I hit the road with only my thumb and a beat-up Olivetti typewriter. I didn't know what I was looking for. God, love, death, kicks. I knew I needed to go and never stop going. My head bent to the railroad earth. I wandered forth into the electric negro dawn, cold water flats and boxcars booming through cities. Cleveland, Davenport, Denver, and the sound of mad jazz piercing through back alleys and flophouses. New adventures and miles between desire and hope. Desire and hope spread out like one long ribbon across the land, engines into the madness.