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I picked up Tompson in the 9th grade. Hunter S. made me LOATHE politicians and LOVE bikers. I read and re-read Hells Angeles many times before I was 25. All those drunken stories. Later I moved to California and opened my shop here on Arminta Street. One day I am working and hanging out with Ed, one of my friends and up walks three guys, two of which I recognize, one is Tony Pizza, Side Hacker from way back and Joe, former president of the Second Club mentioned prominantly in Thompson's book. Third guy is smacking gum like a fiend, little ferret-like guy, introduced to me as none other than Smacky Jack, the free-lance dentist in Thompson's book. I knew I had died and gone to heaven. Since that fateful day, I have met Buzzard, who got a whole page in Hells Angeles and the object of his tonguey, secanol fueled affections, a solid gold gentleman by the name of Doug-E-Poo.
The stories they tell are crazier than Thompson wrote down. To actually know some of these guys is one of the most interesting things in my life. Who would have thought that in Atlanta, Georgia in 1983, I would be hanging out with my heros from Hunter's life.
Long Live HST, "It never got weird enough for me."
The stories they tell are crazier than Thompson wrote down. To actually know some of these guys is one of the most interesting things in my life. Who would have thought that in Atlanta, Georgia in 1983, I would be hanging out with my heros from Hunter's life.
Long Live HST, "It never got weird enough for me."
