Hey, a Steinbeck novel I liked! It’s a sketchy snapshot of the people and countryside of the 1960s as he travels around the country. It does a good job by admitting his biases and limitations up front; despite wanting to strike up conversations around the nation, we see very few interactions. There’s a lot more time and space devoted to musing about masculinity, his dog Charlie’s thoughts and motivations, and so on.
The book turns out to be a look inside Steinbeck’s head as he drives around, with random things sparking off trains of thought and detailed observation. As he mentions several times, a different person driving the same route and stopping in the same places would record entirely different experiences. And that’s just fine.