Hunter S. Thompson Hits the Road for Branson at 75

We had plenty of sparkling water, along with enough high-octane Starbucks pit stops mapped out for the whole trip — minus that wasteland north of Hot Springs. But the road ahead was long and hilly and I didn’t bring my reading glasses…now where did I put my CBD oil?

Hunter S. Thompson and his attorney, c. 1970. Image courtesy Wiki Commons.

My attorney and I set off into the deepest Ozarks in a baby blue convertible Tesla, but before we got on the road we did a quick inventory of what we’d need to make it through the next 48 hours.

We were driving to Branson, Missouri for the annual Disc Golf Tournament and Corn Dog Eating Contest. I was covering it for Medium, and my attorney was along for the ride, as his second cousin lives in Little Samoa in Bentonville, Arkansas.

Due to his anxiety, combined with being Woke, he can’t drive, although I explained that the Tesla practically drove itself.

“Are you mad? This demon machine will hurl us off a mountainside,” he said.

“Drink some of this,” I said, handing him an ice-cold Topo Chico in a glass bottle.

“Oh, thank you, sweet Jesus,” he replied, “I cannot abide this stuff in a plastic…