John Steinbeck writes about the nature of the journey he is about to take, which is much the same as all journeys that anyone takes or has taken. He has felt an urge to be somewhere else all his life, as a very young boy through adulthood, middle age and even now at fifty-eight years of age. Those older than him have always advised him that he would grow out of the wanderlust over time. Steinbeck has decided that rather than waiting for old age to make travel impossible—and in that way grow out of it—he would give in to the urge to roam.
Referring to this state of journeying as bumdom, he ticks off the prerequisites. A traveler needs a reason for traveling, and for bums this reason can.....
