1960’s and 1970’s Culture Archives
TRUE PSYCHEDELIC TRIPS!
MIND-BLOWER #22 . . . Winter 1970
HIPPIE ACID ROAD TRIP RACE
Los Angeles, California to Aspen, Colorado
and the race back!
Driving Asleep, Snow Stranded with Crazy Colorado Chicks,
Deliverance Rednecks, LSD, and our VW Bug flies!
It is Winter 1970, 00individual and his good buddy Mike D were on a road trip in a classic late ’60s Volkswagon Bug from L.A. to Aspen, Colorado, and just like the far too many plot lines of future Rom-Com movies, they were going there to hang for a couple days and then escort their good friend back to L.A. for his wedding. The bride was a cute blonde Irish girl and former amicable-break-up short-term girlfriend of 00individual – what could go wrong?!
This chronicle post for the archives was written in first person by 00individual.
Somewhere about mid-way to Aspen I awoke to a sudden rumbling sensation to find myself behind the wheel, across the painted highway dividing line, through the opposing lane, off the road and sailing along flat, bumpy ground.
Instinctively, I put on the brakes to the floor without putting in the clutch and the Bug lurched and shuddered to a stop as Mike D sat frozen in fear from the sudden awakening.
If you live after falling asleep behind the wheel while driving you will never let it happen again and you will have a nice dose of adrenaline to keep you going, very alertly, for the next hundred miles or couple hours, or whichever comes first.
After at least eighteen hours on the drive straight through, and then after searching in the dark snowing landscape, we finally found our friend Rick’s cabin just before midnight.
We were glad to see each other and to finally rest, as we were exhausted and hadn’t slept, except from behind the wheel.
After smoking a bowl of Marijuana and giving Rick good-natured shit about his upcoming wedding, his phone rang and it was his landlord, he saw us arrive and told him that he would kick him out if those “Hippies” stayed the night. Great.
We had to leave, but where? We’d literally freeze in the VW. Rick made some calls and gave us a map to a nearby KOA trailer park where there were two girls who would put us up for the night.
Crazy Colorado Chicks
Remember kids, this was not uncommon at all, the vibe was one among us Hippies to help our fellow Brothers and Sisters when we could, as we would do the same for them. We were just very fortunate at his late hour and in a semi-isolated area that there were some of our Tribe who would receive us with open arms, literally.
Once inside their trailer we thanked the two girls very much for the intrusion and settled in to get some much needed sleep. But they seemed happy to have a couple guys there with them and wanted to talk.
Now under normal situations this would seem like a perfect movie moment hook-up, they were cute and spirited, but we were exhausted and sleepy. The girls wanted to talk and we were apparently a welcomed novelty.
After an interstate drive of which we stayed stoned for most all of the trip; Mike D and I would both look at each other and acknowledge the same feeling and thought: I’m exhausted – I just want to sleep! We were actually getting to that punchy state where even your own predicament is funny.
Finally, knowing that this would go on ’til dawn, I “eyebrowed” Mike D, he nodded in agreement. It was inevitable, we knew the only way to politely shut them up and get some sleep was if we got lovable and got it on with these two willing but Crazy Colorado Chicks and used up whatever energy we all had left to finally crash, peacefully.
This wasn’t misogynist or sexist; this was for our mental and physical health – and it worked!
Deliverance Red Necks (as in the Ars Gratia Artis-era hard core classic 1972 movie)
That next day we went on an explore (scroll down to “. . and the Ugly”).
The Race back to L.A. is on
After another day of Aspen knock-around snow fun (skiing was out, this was a quick escort trip), we all three planned to leave the following day and race from Aspen to L.A. – partly to insure Rick’s arrival for the wedding day priorities – and partly for the cosmic fun of it as Mike D and I agreed to drop some acid for the race.
Others of our Tribe had “raced” from L.A. to Aspen for best time one-way; Aspen was a popular place for skiers, actors, singers, artists, hippies, dopers, dealers and good people back in the day and someone always had a friend living there. It was the year that Hunter S. Thompson was running for Sheriff of Aspen and the surrounding Pitkin County.
So, it was Rick in his blue Toyota Land Cruiser verses us in the VW Bug. We didn’t leave ’til late but once on the road, the race was on!
We jockeyed through the night sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, but if behind always in view of the Toyota’s red tail lights.
Only one time we fell too far behind and ended up taking a wrong turn at Arizona and ended-up at the Grand Canyon – we just stopped, looked out at the moon-lit canyon, stared up at the stars, smoked a joint and got back on the road – and this was years before “National Lampoon’s Vacation” classic scene.
Car Breakdown, more Rednecks
Back on track, and after driving the equivalent time of side one of The Doors, the Toyota’s red lights soon came into view stopped off to the side of the road due to a dead battery, but it took a jump start to the next “town”. The gas station/garage was at the end of the town’s main strip and although it was still a couple hours til dawn the garage was open.
All three of us approached the three redneck mechanics on duty with our dilemma and with barely-disguised chuckles under their breath they said to come back when they “opened” at 6 AM – they could have sold us a battery on the spot – they were “open” – but we were long-haired Hippies and were easy targets for their ridicule and control.
The joke was ultimately on them, shortly after 6 AM with the new battery we installed, we were back on the road to Wonderland – a trip they’d never take.
The sun was rising and we decided to drop some acid. We were at least a couple days away from the comedown from the last trip; fuzzy but alert.
Mike D was a good psychedelic buddy, always good to go, and we still had a lot of ground to cover so we ceremoniously ingested our tabs of goodness and popped the perfect LSD Rock Album, The Who – Live at Leeds, in the cassette player and cranked it up.
On a particular area of vast nothingness somewhere in Arizona/Nevada, I saw something enormous moving way, way off in the distance to the right. By the size of the dirt-storm it was causing it had to be massive – it seemed to be a grinding mass of machinery coming right toward us! Whatever it was, Godzilla would be its very little pet.
Even though miles away, the early morning sun’s reflection shot gold and silver shards of light off the clockwork-machine-geared beast as it became closer and bigger still. When finally able to speak and point it out to Mike D, it had disappeared.
There is an acquired understanding regarding aspects of psychedelic trips of the possibility that not all hallucinations are mentally manifested and that some hallucinations are actually real. When the mind reaches specific psychedelic elevations, possible alternate existences’ frequencies align and can momentarily come into view and in a “real world” sense.
Although psychedelics can be frequency alignment enhancers; stoned or straight it’s where a person’s “head” is at that gets you closer to parting the veil, or observing / interacting with an entity who’s passing through. As long as the frequencies align the two (or more) realities exist together on the same mutual plane but once the frequency wavers even slightly then the connected realities are no more.
Having experienced both, I would state that the uniqueness of this “hallucination” was because of the actuality of two planes of existence intersecting for a five to ten second real world real time experience. Was it us who impinged on a like terrain of another plane? Or was this “thing” massively moving across its own homeworld and we were the invaders?
In life, a primary desired ability is to discern which is good and which is evil, and which is real and which is unreal.
And while you’re contemplating those realities just remember that “our reality” is based on agreement.
Locked-in the Slipstream to Oblivion: Our VW Bug flies!
None of that mattered now because for some reason Mike D wanted us to get in the slipstream of this huge diesel truck that was in front of us to take advantage of the lower air pressure behind the truck and thereby providing reduced air resistance on the VW; this translates into a requirement to do less work on the VW’ s part and therefore lower fuel costs and at the same time provides the sensation and reality of being held within a high-speed tailgate tractor beam along the highway.
He kept pushing his foot on my foot on the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard and as the VW became fully-enveloped behind the truck’s draft I felt something.
The front tires were leaving the road, I could feel it. We were maxed on the speedometer at 90 MPH and I was white-knuckled to the steering wheel keeping control as the little VW Bug wouldn’t hold much longer like a bigger heavier car would.
I knew that it would only be seconds before the back tires would lift off and we’d careen out and off the road into oblivion.
And for a split second I felt all four tires leave the ground and Mike D was still acid-laughing and pushing on the gas, I had to do something so I abruptly yelled, “Hey, don’t let the weed go out the window!” That diversion was enough for him to turn and let off the gas pedal and disengage from the slipstream as the truck roared on.
In all of the commotion we lost track of Rick and didn’t know if we were ahead or behind in the race.
Still it was a wonderful feeling coming in to L.A. still high on the waves of acid. The city dirt was grittier, the signs more colorful, the awareness of your humanity heightened, the tinges and twinges of the psychedelic magic still about, and stoned or not, we experienced that warm glow you get when you’re nearing home.
A week later, after the wedding and at the reception, someone actually fell on the middle of a very long table of food and drinks so that everything slid in V-formation to the center; the happily married couple divorced within a year; and as it turned out we officially won the interstate race!
World-Class Psychedelic Times!
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