The autobiography of Eyvind Earle. The centerpiece of the book is Earle's diary/memoir of a 1937 cross-country bicycle trip from Hollywood, California to Monroe, New York. The book is illustrated with 50 new pointillist black & white ink drawings created expressly for this book & 26 pages of photographs.

The Foreword by Eyvind Earle:

“I waited too long. I could have asked my father, but it never dawned in me that I would ever be writing the story of my life until long after he left this earth. And my mother too. She left before I started writing and at the end she was only barely still on this earth, her memory almost completely gone.

So with no one to help me but myself and the piles of letters and clippings that my mother kept all her life, I'll try to put the beginning together as best I can.

And now, at the age of 74, I will try to tell my story. It is crowded with so many memories, all intertwined, and so very many memories fading away and almost forgotten. At twenty-one I thought I knew far more than I think I know today. The more I wonder and ponder, the further away the truth recedes. Like mountain ranges that never stop, no matter how many you keep climbing.

If you wonder why I have written an autobiography, the only reason I can give, is that so many friends and people I meet at exhibitions kept asking me: “When is there going to be a book about your life?” Or when I would be telling a group of people some incident in my past, they never failed to say: “You've just got to write that down and get a book published.” And then finally in 1988 at five different exhibition openings, not counting the five in Japan that year, the demand became so constant, that I finally promised everybody that it would be written in 1990.

Now, since I am even busier today than I was at almost anytime in the past, I wondered how would I ever be able to take the time off to sit down day after day and write the story of my life? Then a thought came to me: Since I always wake up in the middle of the night, and lay awake for a certain amount of time, I would simply get up and start to write, if possible every single night of the week.

On January 5th, 1989, I started doing just that, and by March 20, 1990, I had written over six hundred handwritten pages.”