We live in an era of gratuitous invention and negative improvements. Consider the road trip, whose goal is the absence of goals: to throw everything into the wind and travel long distances with no plan and little money. It was the great adventure, free as the winding road, as authentic and radical as the hitchhiker on the side of the road. A Bible of truth, the road is as enlightening as the wise Buddha on top the hidden mountain.

Who could forget the wind blowing away doubt and the energy of the blaring music? We are given, instead, the superficial clothes and money, which pours out of our wide pockets.

No longer do we throw ourselves on the road: we embarrass, we wallow, we scare at the idea of being old-fashioned. We resist our radical impulses, jailing our emotions, along with our dangerous, amoral, ideas. However, there is a way to save ourselves: as Jack Kerouac famously wrote, “Burn, burn, burn, like the fabulous yellow roman candles.”

Burn the rust covered bars, burn the expensive clothes, and burn the soul. We must wallow in our flames and let the smoke clear our vision.