To be in transit is to navigate a void between points of departure and arrival. When we’re in an airplane, untethered to the earth, time and space roll by indifferently. Only seldom does a vague sense of location present itself through the oval window—green irrigation circles printed on the Plains, dotted lines of city light woven in the darkness, black granite peaks locked in ice. On road trips, these captivating pauses come at shorter intervals between the on- and off-ramps, at gas stations, diners and cheap motels. Jack Kerouac’s unspooling tale, On the Road, follows his vision of “one great red line across America, ” but gathers its tone and value in the dingy waysides of the route. It begins inauspiciously, with rain coming down hard at Bear Mountain Bridge on Route 6. Waiting alone for a ride at an abandoned filling station, looking This story is from Kinfolk Issue Thirty-Five Buy Now Related Stories Arts & Culture Issue 50 Close Knit Close Knit: Meet the weavers keeping traditional Egyptian tapestrymaking alive. Arts & Culture Issue 50 The Old Gays Inside a Californian TikTok “content house” of a very different stripe. Arts & Culture Issue 50 New Roots The Palestinian art and agriculture collective sowing seeds of community. Arts & Culture Issue 50 Angela Trimbur An all-out tour de force. Arts & Culture Issue 50 Peace & Quiet In the UK, a centuries-old Quaker meeting house encourages quiet reflection. Arts & Culture Issue 50 Free Wheelers On the road with London’s Velociposse Cycling Club.