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 . . .
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, page 1.
Hunter S. Thompson shot himself in the head to fatal effect sometime today. Although I've often imagined him dying, I never guessed it would be both sudden and on purpose. He was a great contributor to our culture. I salute him.