The allure of the open road isn’t what it once was, but for those of us who came of age before the world became so interconnected, the romance of driving for driving’s sake has never gotten old. As long as we’re on the go, we don’t much care where we’re headed.

I grew up before the Internet, smart phones and social media turned the world into a global village that even Marshall McLuhan couldn’t have envisioned. My generation read Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road” and John Steinbeck’s “Travels With Charley,” and digested movies like “Easy Rider” and TV shows like “route 66.”

Life is a highway, as singer-songwriter Tom Cochrane put it.

Naturally, I didn’t turn down an invitation from a fellow retired newspaper guy to be part of a two-man road trip across the U.S. this winter.

Over a game of pool, friend Mike Shenker put it this way, “We’ll be in search of an America that once was … or maybe never was.” How fitting, I thought, at age 66 I’m going to get my kicks on Route 66.”