David Lamb's journey--on a sleek 21-speed touring bicycle--carried him 3,145 miles, from his home near the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., all the way to the pier in Santa Monica, California.  The result is a highly personal account of coming to grips with middle age in the tradition of Howell Raines Fly Fishing Through the Midlife Crisis . Lamb did no training for his cross-country feat, failed to curb his addiction to either cigarettes or junk food, and along the way encountered an America all but invisible to those unfortunate travelers held hostage by the interstate.  The journey took him three months, and Over the Hills is the magnificent result: a literary travelogue, funny and celebratory, a story about people met and physical challenges overcome. A highly respected journalist and self-confirmed middle-ager, Lamb decides to set off one day on a cross-country journey from Washington, D.C., to Santa Monica, California. In a reportorial style, he gathers facts about bicycling from friends and magazines, piecing together what he thinks is the sufficient equipment and information to make his trip easier. But Lamb doesn't map out a real plan, research his route or terrain, or prepare physically for what becomes a major, life-altering trek. The difficulties he meets in weather, accommodations, and road conditions seem insignificant in comparison to his interior journey, brought about by encounters with history, people, and places. Clearly a man with a strong will, Lamb defies the odds and reaffirms his life and youth. Like one 3,145-mile meditation, Over the Hills certainly bears resemblance to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and will appeal to many readers, even those for whom a solitary cross-country trip will remain a dream. Janet St. Joh^In Astride his trusty Trek 520, Los Angeles Times correspondent Lamb (Stolen Season, 1991, etc.) pedals his way from the Potomac to the Pacific in this entertaining 3,145-mile ramble, which is more cycling manifesto than travelogue. Middle age was squatting like a fat toad on Lamb's shoulders. Feeling restless, feeling all of his 55 years, knowing that he ``could be quite fulfilled wandering aimlessly forever,'' he decided to undertake a transcontinental journey, via bicycle, without timetables and sticking to back roads. He is a worthy narrator, stopping to smell the roses and sketch for his readers the towns and characters he met en route, witnessing in many places the demise of Main Street, listening in the quiet of the night ``to the labored breathing of Small Town, America.'' But this is no Blue Highways, for as much as Lamb enjoys the open road, he is even more fascinated with cycling, its history, and what great good sense it makes in terms of simple pleasure and its benign nature. Peppered throughout the book are nuggets of cycling lore, from a sketch of a bicycle found in the workshop of Leonardo da Vinci, through the penny-farthing era, to the emergence of the mountain bike. With his light journalist's touch, he makes fair reading out of the biker's concerns: picking the good route, the torment of head winds, the terrors prompted by vicious dogs, the unfathomable ugliness showered on cyclers (ignoramuses throw bottles at him, run him off the road, shout profanities, and threaten him), all balanced by the ecstasy of smooth macadam and a downhill slope; on this trip, a wide shoulder to the road was more tantalizing than even the fairest prospect. A delightful tribute to romancing the road on a bike, and unintentionally inspirational: Lamb smokes, has high cholesterol, and chows down on fast foods. Criminy, if he could do it . . . -- Copyright ©1996, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved. "David Lamb's delightful mix of anecdote, observation, and social history makes a trip through forgotten communities on a humble bicycle truly a memorable story. From the dogs of Tennessee to the daily rituals of a long-distance bicyclist, Lamb's vivid account enables the reader to experience the nation's highways, communities, and people from the saddle of a bike--without turning a pedal. Full of insight and humor, Over the Hills also reaffirms the simple, honest lives of rural Americans, providing a snapshot of our culture in the 1990s. Here is a book that will surprise even motorists who have covered the same roads." - Andy Clarke, President, Bicycle Federation of America journey--on a sleek 21-speed touring bicycle--carried him 3,145 miles, from his home near the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., all the way to the pier in Santa Monica, California. The result is a highly personal account of coming to grips with middle age in the tradition of Howell Raines Fly Fishing Through the Midlife Crisis . Lamb did no training for his cross-country feat, failed to curb his addiction to either cigarettes or junk food, and along the way encountered an America all but invisible to those unfortunate travelers held hostage by the interstate. The journe