At 1:37 p.m. on Jan. 7, a fire broke out in a dorm room on the second floor of Sereno Hall, located within the Regan Residence Halls complex of Segundo. Firefighters evacuated the building in order to clear out the smoke. No one was present in the room at the time.

According to UC Davis Fire Chief Nathan Trauernicht, the room’s garbage receptacle near the door was on fire and a water extinguisher was used to put it out. Trauernicht said that the improper disposal of a cigarette butt most likely led to the fire. The UC Davis Fire Department was dispatched to the room when the room’s heat detector transmitted a signal indicating it had been dismantled.

UC Davis became a smoke and tobacco-free campus beginning Jan. 1. The residents of the dorm room will be referred to Student Judicial Affairs.

— Claire Tan

The back of Evan Kenward’s self-published debut novel Young Wanderlust asks the questions: What do you do when you graduate college? Do you get a job? Start your career? Begin your young adult life?

If you’re Evan Kenward, a recent University of Massachusetts Amherst graduate, you answer these questions by dropping everything and commencing on a cross-country road trip with two of your two best friends in an unreliable rusted out old Subaru. What happens on the way is up to fate.

Young Wanderlust is a 28-day account of Kenward’s cross-country road trip he took during the early summer months of 2008. Determined to experience everything that the American west and has to offer on a small backpacking budget, Kenward tells his story with optimism and wonderment and engrains in the minds of his readers that spontaneous travel is the true road to complete and total freedom.

Beginning in Massachusetts, Kenward sets off west traversing highways and taking in the sights of middle America. The car holds up for the cross-country drive that included, but was not limited to, memorable stops in the badlands of South Dakota, hot springs in the Nevada desert and a quick camping trip in Yosemite. However, the real part of Kenward’s journey begins when the car that had driven him nearly 3,000 miles across North America breaks down in Eureka, CA. His two traveling companions decide to call it quits and return home to Massachusetts. However, Kenward wasn’t about to let a car come between him and the Pacific Northwest.

Kenward, 3,000 miles from home, has to network his way north. He discovers couch surfing, which provides him with unforgettable experiences that include participating in Vancouver’s Critical Mass (an event hosted on the last Friday of every month in major cities around the US where thousands of bikers take to the streets to promote more sustainable ways of transportation) and sleeping under the stars in Whistler, British Columbia on the shores of a beautiful alpine lake.

Kenward’s genuine admiration for the series of events that lead him to these unforgettable experiences is supported by his smooth prose. He articulates scenes with ease and you feel as if you’re right there looking over his shoulder as he takes on the unknown. The wonderment he must have felt while in the midst of his journey is clearly read and he writes with a confident voice that rarely falters.

The book, however, can be a bit tedious. Rounding out at 476 pages, Young Wanderlust is a work that pays attention to the slightest of details, and if patience is not one of your virtues I would recommend preparing yourself. Nonetheless, Kenward’s first attempt is commendable and is worth taking a few days to read and find out what it takes to make the classic American road trip.

If you’re thinking about adventuring out into the world with just a backpack and the drive to see a place through the eyes of a weary traveler without the typical tourist agenda, i.e. sightseeing, hotels and rental cars, Young Wanderlust will provide inspiration for those eager to find new experiences.

Young Wanderlust can be purchased online in a variety of formats. Check out the book’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/youngwanderlustbook.

On Dec. 10, Jeff Tweedy of the bands Wilco and Uncle Tupelo presented his solo concert at the Mondavi Center with Scott McCaughey of the band The Young Fresh Fellows as his opener.

I’d like to inform you that I attended this concert knowing almost nothing about Tweedy’s music besides a few of his popular songs from Wilco. All I had at hand was my love for all genres of music and low expectations to avoid possible disappointment (I’m a bundle of sunshine).

I got there a few minutes into the show and found myself watching McCaughey in a furry silver top-hat and sunglasses sipping whiskey and trying not to spill on the piano. He comically stumbled around stage between his guitar, banjo and piano, singing about The Walking Dead comics and Babe Ruth. Though I couldn’t tell if he was comedian or a musician, I definitely enjoyed the oddity of it all.

The audience was mostly middle-aged to senior citizens hooting at McCaughey’s absurd gag reel of simplistic chords and arbitrary lyrics, but as soon as Tweedy took stage tons of young couples flooded the audience holding hands, cuddling and screaming cutesy requests at the headliner. Since I’m quite young and seemingly single, I felt out of place (mostly because the couple next to me kept kissing at different angles depending on the song that was playing).

Tweedy entered alone with his guitar, pulled out from the shadows with a single spotlight, and opened with a somber version of “Via Chicago” from Wilco’s 1999 album Summerteeth. I thought the song seemed weird as an opener because it was exceptionally low-energy.

As the concert progressed I realized he chose pretty low-key rep, though not necessarily lethargic. He did sprinkle in a few driving forces like Wilco’s “Heavy Metal Drummer,” and I took into account that the lack of a full band and minimal amplification created a toned-down atmosphere. Whether this was his intention or not, it worked well, keeping a cozy atmosphere while still engaging the audience.

Tweedy displayed mastery over his guitar, never over-indulging in his abilities, but offering a satisfying taste of what he knew. Paying tribute to Wilco several times, he soloed carefully past the musical complexities of what his band is generally known for to leave room for what felt like an intimate at-a-bar-in-the-middle-of-nowhere with your sweetheart setting (which may explain why I was surrounded by snuggly couples and tipsy fifty-somethings).

As much as I appreciated Tweedy’s guitar skill, I enjoyed his voice more. His tenor range was smooth and piercing during his ballads, but released a rawer, less-perfected sound when the beat picked up, making him emotionally accessible for the audience. He tossed in a few whistle interludes which seemed to charm the couples into trying to whistle along (needless to say it didn’t work out and they went back to snogging).

As I finally settled into the feel of things, a heckler pointed out that Tweedy had been suspiciously quiet in between songs. To this, Tweedy explained he didn’t feel like telling stories that night. This riled up the older audience causing them to pressure Tweedy until he told a story about his father, while the couples continued to scream out random song requests.

It was halfway through the show at this point and Tweedy looked slightly distressed, snapping back at heckling audience members and immediately apologizing for his snarkiness. He then began loosening up, cracking little jokes and occasionally dancing (quite poorly) in silence in an attempt to be “fun.” As things began to escalate from somewhat tense to downright strange, I gave up and started engaging with the weirdness, trying to ignore the couple next to me, who were now whispering scanty nothings to each other.

After watching a girl in the front row attempt to dance to the excessively slow song, “I’m the Man Who Loves You” and listening to multiple other audience members pick at Tweedy’s setlist, the show ended with a standing ovation and Tweedy came back for an encore that lasted as long as his show had. He tried to start a sing-and-echo with the audience, but instead went on a rant about how he wished he was cool enough to get the audience to echo him without planning it beforehand. He nonetheless exited to another standing ovation.

Despite being sandwiched in between young couples in heat and Davis’ thirsty hecklers (who knew this was Tweedy’s fan base?), I thoroughly enjoyed the show. Tweedy was able to last through a good two hours of rep without losing his vigor and his endearing (humorously awkward) personality. I can’t wait to see what his concert is like when I’m thirty years older and have taken to whiskey.