As much as I typically don't enjoy "road narratives," (cough, Kerouac, cough) I found this to be absolutely fantastic. Granted, it's Chuck Klosterman, so I expected as much. Actually, I might have underestimated the power of this book going into it. Some of the events it covers I didn't care that much for, but others were very near & dear to me - such as visiting the Buddy Holly crash site. I also tend enjoy the tender morbidity of facing one's mortality... That's normal though, right?