"Thompson, Hunter S - Hell's Angels v3.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thompson Hunter S)

To the friends who lent me money and kept me
mercifully unemployed. No writer can function
without them. Again, thanks. HST


The idea for this book came from Carey McWilliams,
editor of The Nation, who asked me to write an
article on the weird phenomenon of motorcycle gangs.
The article appeared in The Nation in April 1965.
Carey's ideas and suggestions gave the book a
framework and perspective that it might
not otherwise have had.






In my own country I am in a far-off land
I am strong but I have no force or power
I win all yet remain a loser
At break of day I say goodnight
When I lie down I have a great fear
Of falling.
-- Franчois Villon




Roll em, boys


1


California, Labor Day weekend. . . early, with ocean fog still in the streets, outlaw motorcyclists wearing chains, shades and greasy Levi's roll out from damp garages, all-night diners and cast-off one-night pads in Frisco, Hollywood, Berdoo and East Oakland, heading for the Monterey peninsula, north of Big Sur. . . The Menace is loose again, the Hell's Angels, the hundred-carat headline, running fast and loud on the early morning freeway, low in the saddle, nobody smiles, jamming crazy through traffic and ninety miles an hour down the center stripe, missing by inches. . . like Genghis Khan on an iron horse, a monster steed with a fiery anus, flat out through the eye of a beer can and up your daughter's leg with no quarter asked and none given; show the squares some class, give em a whiff of those kicks they'll never know. . . Ah, these righteous dudes, they love to screw it on. . . Little Jesus, the Gimp, Chocolate George, Buzzard, Zorro, Hambone, Clean Cut, Tiny, Terry the Tramp, Frenchy, Mouldy Marvin, Mother Miles, Dirty Ed, Chuck the Duck, Fat Freddy, Filthy Phil, Charger Charley the Child Molester, Crazy Cross, Puff, Magoo, Animal and at least a hundred more. . . tense for the action, long hair in the wind, beards and banнdanas flapping, earrings, armpits, chain whips, swastikas and stripped-down Harleys flashing chrome as traffic on 101 moves over, nervous, to let the formation pass like a burst of dirty thunder. . .


They call themselves Hell's Angels. They ride, rape and raid like marauding cavalry -- and they boast that no police force can break up their criminal motorнcycle fraternity.
-- True, The Man's Magazine (August 1965)


They're not bad guys, individually. I tell you one thing: I'd rather have a bunch of Hell's Angels on my hands than these civil rights demonstrators. When it comes to making trouble for us, the demonstrators are much worse.
-- Jailer, San Francisco City Prison


Some of them are pure animals. They'd be animals in any society. These guys are outlaw types who should have been born a hundred years ago -- then they would have been gunfighters.
-- Birney Jarvis, a charter member of the Hell's Angels who later became a San Francisco Chronicle police reporter