Why I Love the Hippies.

Years ago, while I was tripping on purple microdot acid in the mountains, a hippie named Walther appeared. He read my aura, and then awarded me a magical super power, called "weirdness precognition".

I was driving home fast*, from SF, last night about midnight, and the freeway was clear. Along a dark section, I began to notice a chain of cars on the shoulder, with their lights on. The situation was weird and aberrant, and thus, triggered my spider sense. Up ahead, I saw the quickly emerging silhouette of a car, in my lane, and without lights. I let off the gas, and soon realized the car ahead was not moving. I had time to zip around it to the left, and as I passed it, I realized that it was horribly mangled, as if it had rolled a number of times.

An anonymous, fat hipster must have been driving drunk. Before he rolled, it seems that he smacked a number of cars along his midnight road to eternal Hell.
The Hippies saved me again. God bless Jerry Garcia.


*Where O America are you
going in your glorious
automobile, carreening
down the highway
toward what crash
------------------------After Dead Souls-Allen Ginsberg