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Monday, February 21, 2005

Calling New York For Some Cash

Everyone who grew up in my generation was affected by Hunter S. Thompson. He articulated the sense of absurdist outrage felt by those of us who came of age during the era of the Vietnam War and Richard Nixon.


He was an iconoclastic image that represented the triumph of spirit over the dark forces of anti-human authoritarianism. He was the ultimate free voice of the time.

When I think of Hunter S. Thompson, I think of his most over the top ride, the Vincent Black Shadow:


"Well," he said, "as your attorney I advise you to buy a motorcycle. How else can you cover a thing like this righteously?"

"No way," I said. "Where can we get hold of a Vincent Black Shadow?"

"What's that?"

"A fantastic bike," I said. "The new model is something like two thousand cubic inches, developing two hundred brake-horsepower at four thousand revolutions per minute on a magnesium frame with two styrofoam seats and a total curb weight of exactly two hundred pounds."

"That sounds about right for this gig," he said.

"It is," I assured him. "The fucker's not much for turning, but it's pure hell on the straightaway. It'll outrun the F-111 until takeoff."

"Takeoff?" he said. "Can we handle that much torque?"

"Absolutely," I said. "I'll call New York for some cash."

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Name: d.
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