Fear And Loathing In AspenAfter accidentally shooting his assistant while chasing a bear from his property five years ago, I assumed Hunter S. Thompson was a bad shot.
I was wrong.
No longwinded eulogy here other than to say that after years of brain-nullifying drug and alcohol abuse and breaking the sound barrier with a new motorcycle or car, Hunter finally achieved his life's goal -- an untimely death.
My favorite HST column is
a hilarious review of the Ducati 900 Supersport that he wrote for Cycling World magazine. Entitled
Song of the Sausage Creature, Hunter concludes with suggesting his epitaph:
That is the attitude of the new-age superbike freak, and I am one of them. On some days they are about the most fun you can have with your clothes on. The Vincent just killed you a lot faster than a superbike will. A fool couldn't ride the Vincent Black Shadow more than once, but a fool can ride a Ducati 900 many times, and it will always be a bloodcurdling kind of fun. That is the Curse of Speed which has plagued me all my life. I am a slave to it. On my tombstone they will carve, "IT NEVER GOT FAST ENOUGH FOR ME."
