He invited me back to his house that night at about 2 or 2:30 in the morning, and I noticed this beautiful nickel-plated 12-gauge shotgun on his wall. I was raised around weapons all my life, being from Kentucky, so I said, “Wow, that’s a really good-looking 12-gauge.” And he said, “Would you like to fire it?” And I said, “Yeah, sure, I’ll fire it.” And he said, “Shit, man, we must build a bomb!” So we built this bomb out of propane tanks and nitroglycerin, took it out in his backyard, and he gave me first crack. I fired upon it from about 30 or 40 yards away, and I hit it square on, and the thing went into a monumental, amazing fireball about 80 feet in the air. I feel like that was my test, my rite of passage. From then on we were either inseparable or on the phone a lot.
In which we think to ourselves, “Man. I wish I had gotten the chance to build a bomb with Hunter S. Thompson.”
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