10:40 AM


Furtherbus left kesey farm Thursday for Vegoose and AT40, got 30 miles down the road and the motor knocked them backwards to the bus barn to park and race to wrecking yard for another motor and this morning finds them still working. Will they leave today? Stay attuned.


On the left, Ed Kashin, KRVM radio host, doing a 13 hour marathon Grateful Dead fundraiser, asks the ol' Capn to come in, perfect timing, for I'm able to hip the radio audience to all the doings: dragging out the old bus, leaving for Vegas in the new bus, returning to the bus barn to swap out the engine, then an original number written for today's radio.

 Capn Be Rappin
by Ken Babbs

capn be rappin
fans be clappin
can't declare a loss
for words elude me
while profits soar
a tough one to crack
harder one to lick
peril of death
worms before slime
I talk all over the place
sometimes only to myself
but as cassady once said
that way you can have
an intelligent conversation

war is for the weary
now don't be gettin teary
boys in the bar are bleary
shades of timothy leary
she asked me if I knew the
pranksters and I tole her
know them? I brake bread with them
the groove is under control
and the airhip is hovering
Some guys have all the luck
the rest of us have to
get by on mere talent

Done been turned over,
burned over,
looked over, passed by.
but didn't lose, didn't get the blues
still soarin' high, high as
a skypilot can fly
 when Montiac
was at the wheel
of the Star Chief Pontiac
Detroit was grooving
the people were moving
the sirens were blowing
the firemen were knowing
it can't be much worse
than burning dinner
and having it erupt
all over the stove

and the capn rushed into
the kitchen with skillet
and spatula in hand
to put out the fire
quench the flames
and liquify the joke

The President of our company
is amply rewarded for
being a valuable and
powerful tool of the
unsung holders of
the secret key
How is that for a sucker deal?
The best and we won't settle
for anything less
as we grovel into our graves
but as for working
I'm working
till the day I die
with or without
social security or health care
but I'm a grizzled old grunt
still howling
still smokin

It has been a pleasure
to pay my taxes and I
look forward to
paying them again
with four toilet seats
and six hammers
while hammered
on the toilet
dressed in his topper
he did the be bopper
and it wasn't a radish
it was a fetish
I'm getting it from
all sides these days
and enjoying it
in every direction.

Capn be rappin
Capn be clappin
He dint lose
He dint get the blues
He still sorin high
High as a skypilot can fly.

Meanwhile, back at the bus the pit crew is busily pushing the new engine into the cavity slotted for receival. Zane and the Capn blow life giving oxygen into the innards, clearing the passages and ensuring full startup.


Engine is installed. It is a Chevy 401, taken out of a running '61 school bus. Ready for startup but the bus battery can't crank it so Simon drives his Volvo into the bus barn and then the battery cables aren't long enough so they hook another set onto the first set and the engine still barely turns over so Zane has the whole crew push the bus outside where the Volvo can park next to the batteries and one cable used and after some grinding the engine catches, the cheers go up and the bus is ready to roll. That's Dave, a great bus mechanic working on the timing.

Wouldn't you know it. One last glitch. Exhaust manifold gasket is on wrong. Got to fix it. So the crew lines up for a final group shot. We know it's a go, so the ol' Capn gives them a final pep talk, hops in his car and heads home. He's knows where he'll be sleeping tonight. The bus will be on the road.



The engine was missing going over the Willamette Pass but they found it alongside the road and noticed the points were out of alignment so Simon lined them up and they slept and went on to Vegas freezing their asses because Dave the previous mechanic doof disconnected the heater when he was wrecking the engine to the tune of thousands and then the pan under the engine was leaking oil and it was spraying all over the exhaust so there was blue smoke fillling the bus and they had to put two quarts of oil in every time they got gas but they got to vegas okay and parked the bus in the parking lot next to the Vegoose thing and sold thousands of dollars of stuff and on Monday night had the acid test all night and skypilot Ian was dozing in the corner and security kicked him out because you had to stay awake till dawn and at ten the next morning everyone had to leave, it was over, so it was the long trip home. Whew, made it at last.


Here is the Acid Test 40 Lightning report. We made it back on the $600 1968 305 GMC V-6 motor fine. It ran good, just leaked a little oil and it got in Zane's mouth and he then sounded like a frog.

-- Simon

Zane Kesey and Dave Nelson

Dave, Billy and Simon. Skypilot Ryan and Zane

Bus parked at AT40 in Vegas


It was about as close to an Acid Test as one could hope for, in 21st century Vegas. With a large, enthusiastic crowd of costumed revelers ranging in age from probably illegally young (they served liquor, lots of it) to older than us, plenty of drugs (apparently, and cladestinely), loud music (too loud), and varied entertainment with spinners, hoopsters, hipsters, and generally flipped-out far-out freaks mostly enjoying the scene, it lasted through the night. I didn't, quite, leaving around 4:00 AM for the solace of the conveniently close, walking-distance hotel and sleep.
The Bus, with fresh engine intact, a 305 and not the 401 as told, was there with time to spare, and picked me up at the chaotic Vegas airport Monday afternoon. An early evening panel discussion including John Perry Barlow, Rick Doblin of MAPS, me, and another luminary who I didn't know (and whose name & orginazation escapes my failing memory, with apologies) was well received by an enthusiastic crowd, as we regaled them with tales of the psychedelic past, present, and future.

Then began the parade of various bands, including, briefly the Pranksters. As usual, a large part of the crowd was fooled into expecting us to be another band, until they very quickly realized that, as a musical group, we are terrible, absolutely awful, and so we didn't last long (nothing lasts!). As the crowd grew quickly restless, we quickly and gracefully exited the stage, leaving in our wake a sigh of relief. Later, many came up to me and said how great we were. I realized they love our act, but don't want to listen to it; in fact, most can't stand to listen to it. That was fine, as it made it easy: a quick hit and outta there. Other acts were well received, and all in all it was quite enjoyable, especially for those who could stand the incessantly loud music and crowded space. I found relief hanging around the Bus in the parking lot, which was surrounded by a much smaller, quieter, but still enthusiastic crowd.
All in all, a success.
Some things not like an Acid Test: a crowd too big for the venue; intense, pat-down security; $40 tickets; many evicted for drunkenness (one for digging the music with eyes closed ("you're asleep, so you're outta here!"); bars, upstairs & down, selling expensive drinks; incessant "entertainment" by a parade of too many bands; getting paid afterwards (a good thing!).
They were still selling tickets, with a line to get in, at 3:00 AM!



Road Trippin with the Pranksters

by T. Wiggins, Bi Polar Bear

It was about 3:30 and I was so frigging excited. I'd been yakking to everyone about this unique opportunity I now had, and finally it was time. I was supposed to leave and meet the bus in Reno; the car ride wouldn't be that long-like 4 hours or so, well actually that was according to mapquest. According to me it was 3 and half (or so I found on the way back). Well that plan blew through because that bus didn't have an engine that worked. The merry prankster bus, Further, was still up in Eugene, Oregon. I was too energized though I had to get on the road to meet my prankster friends. So I said fuck it and jumped in my car with necessary items like: overalls and hat to paint with prankster day glo paint, cameras, tape recorder, some clothes, no underwear (don't tell anyone look they all got ripped I don't know why just forget I said that), an invigorated soul, and a smile. I zoomed up to Eugene in about 9 hours-would have been so much faster, but I hit a ton of traffic. I made up for it . . .