I heard someone call this "perhaps the greatest opening to an american novel".
Quote:
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive. . . ." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas.
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Man, the more information I read about him today, the sadder I get. I've heard many speculate that he could have had some sort of terminal illness. That would make a little more sense out of the whole thing.