Death is a constant in Kerouac’s Big Sur, omnipresent, standing on our every turn. Religion is a constant. Drunkenness is a constant. Mother is a constant. The white line splitting the road is a constant. The road is a constant. Friends and friendships though, change. Even the ice cold Billie with her blond hair and blue eyes gets angry and cold, and you wonder what took her so long. Of course, the immediate response to finishing the Big Sur, or any of Kerouac’s novels, his endless Legends of Duoloz series, is an urge to write in his manner.