On The Road in short (one line per chapter)

A tremendous thing happened
when I met Dean and  Carlo Marx.

I swore I'd be in Chicago tomorrow.

I was just somebody else, some stranger,
and my whole life was a haunted life,
the life of a ghost.

I realised that I would never see
any of them again
but that's the way it was.

I was with Montana Slim
and we started hitting the bars.

Dean and Carlo were the underground monsters
of that season in Denver.

"Oh, these Denver Doldrums!"

"You can't stop the machine."

I was itching to get on to San Francisco.

But why think about that when all the
golden lands ahead of you and
all kinds of events wait lurking to
surprise you and make you glad
you're alive to see?

Oh where is the girl I love?

"I thought you was a nice college boy."

I envisioned wild complexities with
Dean and Marylou and everything.

I was sick and tired of life.

The bug was on me again and the bug's name
was Dean Moriarty and I was of on another
spurt around the road.

This cant go on all the time-
all this franticness and jumping around.

Everything is fine, god exists, we know time.

I had nothing to offer anybody
except my own confusion.

Life is life and kind is kind.

It would take all night to tell about Old Bull Lee.

As we ran I had a mad vision of Dean
running through all of life
just like that.

It's the too huge world vaulting us and it's goodbye/

"Dean will leave you out in the cold any time
if its in his interest."

I wanted to go back and leer at my strange
Dickensian mother in the hash joint.

To Slim Gaillard the whole world
was just one big orooni.

Down in Denver,
Down in Denver
all I did was die.

Two broken down heroes of the
Western night.

Looking at the old bums in the saloon
that reminded hi of his father.

Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these
tired faces in the dawn of jazz America.

"Sal, think of it, we'll dig Denver together."

I told Dean I was sorry he had nobody left
in the world to believe in him.

Dean was in such an obvious frenzy
everybody could guess his madness.

The road must eventually
lead to the whole world.

Great Chicago glowed red
before our eyes.

She was eighteen and most
lovely, and lost.

Our actual night, the hell of it,
the senseless nightmare road.

Home I'll never be.

I have exactly sixteen minutes
to make it to Ed Dunkel's house.

Texas is undeniable.

Behind us lay the whole of America and
everything Dean and I had previously known
about life and life on the road.

"Okay, Old Dean, I'll say nothing."

I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of
the Old Dean Moriarty,
the father we never found,
I think of Dean Moriarty.