Beneath the veneer of respectability or trustworthiness, a little bit of Jack Kerouac lurks in us all. Haven’t you, in the summer doldrums, wanted to chuck a few things in the back of a black convertible and hit the road--the mythic, American asphalt dreamstream that seduces us with the promise of abandonment and freedom? Bad boy Kerouac’s travels, and the metaphorical, picaresque adventures he encountered, lie at the core of a persistent 21st century dilemma: mobility runs counter to environmental responsibility.

Unlike the heady days of the mid-twentieth century, when gasoline burned, burned, burned for pocket change, today we take a measured approach when confronting gas pumps employing higher math. A $70.00 fillup, conveniently debited from the checking account, to reach the cabin by the lake in the four-wheeled drive SUV. How can we reconcile our desire (for motion, mobility, ultimate freedom) with finite resources? The road looks tough since Kerouac’s ‘47 Caddie ran out of gas.