Perhaps the greatest charm of tramp-life is the absence of monotony. In Hobo Land the face of life is protean—an ever-changing phantasmagoria, where the impossible happens and the unexpected jumps out of the bushes at every turn of the road. The hobo never knows what is going to happen the next moment; hence, he lives only in the present moment. He has learned the futility of relic endeavor, and knows the delight of drifting along with the whimsicality of Chance

The Road by Jack London