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You see, about 24 hours ago we were sitting in the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel – in the patio section, of course – and we were just sitting there under this palm tree when this uniformed dwarf came up to me with a pink telephone and said, ' This must be the call you've been waiting for all this time, sir.'"I laughed and ripped open a beer can that foamed all over the back seat while I kept talking. I blundered on: "I want you to understand that this man at the wheel is my he blurted."I didn't think so," I said. Had we deteriorated to the level of of our journey to be made absolutely clear. "They want me to go to Las Vegas at once, and make contact with a Portuguese photographer named Lacerda. All I have to do is check into my suite and he'll seek me out."My attorney said nothing for a moment, then he suddenly came alive in his chair. " He tucked his khaki undershirt into his white rayon bellbottoms and called for more drink. "I'll call New York for some cash."IIThe seizure of 0 from a pig woman in Beverly Hills The New York office was not familiar with the Vincent Black Shadow: they referred me to the Los Angeles bureau – which is actually in Beverly Hills just a few long blocks from the Polo Lounge – but when I got there, the money-woman refused to give me more than 0 in cash. My attorney was waiting in a bar around the corner. I knew it was Lacerda in that plane, heading back to New York. I'm a fucking Venal, mortal, carnal, major, minor – however you want to call it, Lord ... But do me this one last favor: just give me five more high-speed hours before you bring the hammer down; just let me get rid of this goddamn car and off of this horrible desert. and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well ... I have just had two very bad emotional experiences – one with the California Highway Patrol and another with a phantom hitchhiker who may or may not have been who I thought it was – and now, feeling right on the verge of a bad psychotic episode, I am hunkered down with my tape machine in a "beer bar" that is actually the back room of a huge Hardware Barn – all kinds of plows and harnesses and piled-up fertilizer bags, and wondering how it all happened. Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side when he sees the big red light behind him ... The thing to do – when you're running along about 100 or so and you suddenly find a red-flashing CHP-tracker on your tail – what you want to do then is Never pull over with the first siren-howl. Was he ready for the vicious, time-consuming scene that was bound to come if he took me under arrest? What goes into my book, as of noon, is that I apprehended you ...

I'd been that call, but I didn't know who it would come from. "The boy's face was a mask of pure fear and bewilderment. And so much for bad gibberish; not even Kesey can help me now. No cop was ever born who isn't a sucker for a finely-executed hi-speed Controlled Drift Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. God only knows what that kid said about us when he finally got back to town.

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Revving the engine up to a terrible high-pitched chattering whine, waiting for the light to change ... To jangle the bastards right down to the core of their spleens. "I think it's about time to chew up a blotter," he said. In some circles, the "Mint 400" is a far, far better thing than the Super Bowl, the Kentucky Derby and the Lower Oakland Roller Derby Finals all rolled into one. None of us realized, at the time, that this was the last we would see of the "Fabulous Mint 400" –By noon it was hard to see the pit area from the bar/casino, 100 feet away in the blazing sun. The only visible action was at the start/finish line, where every few minutes some geek would come speeding out of the dust-cloud and stagger off his bike, while his pit crew would gas it up and then launch it back onto the track with a fresh driver ... The beer in my hand flew up and hit the top, then fell in my lap and soaked my crotch with warm foam."You're fired," I said to the driver. "It has to be ' Joe.'"Lacerda agreed, and sometime around noon he went out on the desert, again, in the company of our driver, Joe. All I have, for guide-pegs, is a pocketfull of keno cards and cocktail napkins, all covered with scribbled notes. They could wait for the rest, he said – but then he got stomped, which convinced him that maybe he'd be better off borrowing enough money to pay the whole wad. There was no way he could possibly understand what was happening.* * *What were we doing out here? Did I actually have a big red convertible out there on the street? The important thing is to cover this story on its own terms; leave the other stuff to Life and Look – at least for now. Or grasp the awful fact that my income averaged around a week that year? I recall one night in the Matrix, when a road-person came in with a big pack on his back, shouting: "Anybody want some L ... No Samoan attorney in his right mind is going to stomp through the metal-detector gates of a commercial airline with a fat black .357 Magnum on his person. So he had left it with me, for delivery – if I made it back to L. and he offered to carve a big X on my forehead, in memory of Lt. but when I told him I was a doctor of journalism his whole attitude changed. No future for a doctor of journalism editing the state pen weekly.

Old elephants limp off to the hills to die; old Americans go out to the highway and drive themselves to death with huge cars. It was a classic affirmation of everything right and true and decent in the national character It was a gross, physical salute to the fantastic of life in this country – but only for those with true grit. My attorney understood this concept, despite his racial handicap, but our hitchhiker was not an easy person to reach. "That cheap mescaline wore off a long time ago, and I don't know if I can stand the smell of that goddamn ether any longer.""I He was turning the tape cassette over. It's just wonderful to be here with you people. This race attracts a very special breed, and our man in the Harley T-shirt was clearly one of them.* * *The correspondent from Life nodded sympathetically and screamed at the bartender: "Senzaman wazzyneeds! The idea of trying to "cover this race" in any conventional press-sense was absurd: It was like trying to keep track of a swimming meet in an Olympic - sized pool filled with talcum powder instead of water. Wander out on that goddamn desert and these fools race past the checkpoints? for another 50-mile lap, another brutal hour of kidney-killing madness out there in that terrible dust-blind limbo. "Take me back to the pits."It was time, I felt, to get grounded – to ponder this rotten assignment and figure out how to cope with it. He wanted to go back out in the dust storm and keep trying for some rare combination of film and lens that might penetrate the awful stuff."Joe," our driver, was willing. I went back to the blockhouse bar/casino that was actually the Mint Gun Club – where I began to drink heavily, think heavily, and make many heavy notes. Here is one: "Get the Ford man, demand a Bronco for race-observation purposes ... Mainline gambling is a very heavy business – and Las Vegas makes Reno seem like your friendly neighborhood grocery store. Was I just roaming around these Mint Hotel escalators in a drug frenzy of some kind or had I really come out here to Las Vegas to work on a I reached in my pocket for the room key; "1850," it said. So my immediate task was to deal with the car and get back to that room ... On the way down the escalator I saw the Life man twisted feverishly into the telegraph booth, chanting his wisdom into the ear of some horny robot in a cubicle on that other coast. They know me.""Whatever's right," he said, beginning to jerk with the music. I moved the radio as far from the tub as it would go, then I left and closed the door behind me. I walked over to the TV set and turned it on to a dead channel – white noise at maximum decibels, a fine sound for sleeping, a powerful continuous hiss to drown out everything strange. it's hard to adjust to a city gig where the night is full of sounds, all of them comfortably routine. no way to relax; so drown it all out with the fine white drone of a cross-eyed TV set. Just another ugly refugee from the Love Generation, some doom-struck gimp who couldn't handle the pressure. Robert De Ropp on Sonoma Mountain Road, and one fine afternoon in the first rising curl of what would soon become the Great San Francisco Acid Wave I stopped by the Good Doctor's house with the idea of asking him (since he was even then a known drug authority) what sort of advice he might have for a neighbor with a healthy curiosity about LSD. But I always fired into the nearest hill or, failing that, into blackness. And I was careful never to kill more than I could eat."Kill? Yes, you probably won't believe this, officer, but he suddenly hurled that knife into the brackish mescal waters near our feet, and then he gave me this revolver. Better to get the hell out of this atavistic state at high speed. But, first – back to the Mint Hotel and cash a check, then up to the room and call down for two club sandwiches, two quarts of milk, a pot of coffee and a fifth of Bacardi Anejo. After a few blocks in the wrong direction on Main Street, I doubled back and aimed south, towards L.

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If you're looking for something specific, from a fast car to a fetish device, chances are, you can find it in Las Vegas.They are even within walking distance of each other if you're not wearing heels.Also, you may be surprised to hear that there are six certified Rolex dealers on the Strip alone, and that you can buy a Ferrari or Maserati direct from the showroom at the Wynn.He The car suddenly veered off the road and we came to a sliding halt in the gravel. The radio was screaming: "Power to the People – Right On! The Ford Motor Company had come through, as promised, with a "press Bronco" and a driver, but after a few savage runs across the desert – looking for motorcycles and occasionally finding one – I abandoned this vehicle to the photographers and went back to the bar. Somewhere around 11, I made another tour in the press-vehicle, but all we found were two dune-buggies full of what looked like retired petty-officers from San Diego. The engines were all roaring; we could barely hear each other."The sporting press," I yelled. His name was not really "Joe," but that's what we'd been instructed to call him. For a loser, Las Vegas is the meanest town on earth. and then hopefully get straight enough to cope with whatever might happen at dawn. Indeed: "Las Vegas at Dawn – The racers are still asleep, the dust is still on the desert, ,000 in prize money slumbers darkly in the office safe at Del Webb's fabulous Mint Hotel in the bright heart of What else? ..."The Red Shark was out on Fremont where I'd left it. It's right there." needed only to be flipped over. That's all I ask – just two hours to sleep before tomorrow. The bathroom was like the inside of a huge defective woofer. VIII"Genius 'round the world stands hand in hand, and one stock of recognition runs the whole circle round" – Art Linkletter mean? Jam the bugger between channels and doze off nicely. My attorney is not a candidate for the Master Game. I parked on the road and lumbered up his gravel driveway, pausing enroute to wave pleasantly at his wife, who was working in the garden under the brim of a huge seeding hat ... Big balls of lead/alloy flying around the valley at speeds up to 3700 ft. " I realized I could never properly explain that word to this creature in De Ropp's garden. Right, he just shoved it into my hands, butt-first, and then he ran off into the darkness. And if that Samoan pig wanted to argue, if he wanted to come yelling around the house, give him a taste of the bugger about midway up the femur. 158 grains of half-jacketed lead/alloy, traveling 1500 feet per second, equals about 40 pounds of Samoan hamburger, mixed up with bone splinters. For the next 24 hours this matter of personal control will be critical. Rum will be absolutely necessary to get through this night – to polish these notes, this shameful diary ... This place is like the Army: the shark ethic prevails – eat the wounded. " John Lennon's political song, ten years too late. "Last night I was out home in Long Beach and somebody said they were runnin' the Mint 400 today, so I says to my old lady, ' Man, I'm goin'." He laughed. It was time, I felt, for an Agonizing Reappraisal of the whole scene. I had witnessed the start; I was sure of that much. They cut us off in a dry-wash and demanded, "Where the damn thing? "We're just good patriotic Americans like yourselves." Both of their buggies were covered with ominous symbols: Screaming Eagles carrying American Flags in their claws, a slant-eyed snake being chopped to bits by a buzz-saw made of stars & stripes, and one of the vehicles had what looked like a machine-gun mount on the passenger side. "We're friendlies – hired geeks."Dim smiles."If you want a good chase," I shouted "you should get after that skunk from CBS News up ahead in the big black jeep. I had talked to the Fo Mo Co boss the night before, and when he mentioned the driver he was assigning to us he said, "His real name is Steve, but you should call him Joe.""Why not? Until about a year ago, there was a giant billboard on the outskirts of Las Vegas, saying: Don't Gamble with Marijuana! I was not entirely at ease drifting around the casinos on this Saturday night with a car full of marijuana and head full of acid. Now off the escalator and into the casino, big crowds still tight around the crap tables. I stopped at the Money Wheel and dropped a dollar on Thomas Jefferson – a bill, the straight Freak ticket, thinking as always that some idle instinct bet might carry the whole thing off. I drove around to the garage and checked it in – Dr. He would be very difficult to reach for the next six hours. He had already gone through side one – at a volume that must have been audible in every room within a radius of 100 yards, walls and all."' White Rabbit,'" he said. "I'm leaving here in two hours – and then they're going to come up here and beat the mortal shit out of you with big saps. ..."Ok," I said, turning the tape over and pushing the "play" button. I suspect it's going to be a very difficult day.""Of course," he said. a good scene, I thought: The old man is inside brewing up one of his fantastic drug-stews, and here we see his woman out in the garden, pruning carrots, or whatever ... but it would be nearly ten years before I would recognize that sound for what it was: Like Ginsberg far gone in the Om, De Ropp was trying to yet, so I had no way of knowing. I made several attempts to make myself clear – just a neighbor come to call and ask the doctor's advice about gobbling some LSD in my shack just down the hill from his house. And I liked to shoot them – especially at night, when the great blue flame would leap out, along with all that noise ... Here I am sitting out here alone on this fucking desert, in this nest of armed loonies, with a very dangerous carload of hazards, horrors and liabilities that I get back to L. keep the tape machine screaming all night long at top volume: "Allow me to introduce myself ... In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. About half the time we use codes – especially with Doctor Gonzo." accounts ... just a chat and a handshake, you understand.""Of course," I said.

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