Bob Bitchin this was in old Salem, North Carolina, where a building built in the 1600s still stands. Hell, hotels were still operating that were older than that in this region. That night we went and partied again at another carnival that was going on, and once again came stumbling back into camp around sun up. One of the bikers had actually managed to obtain a little smoking material, and I waited like a puppy in heat for a hit, after being without for almost three days straight (a new record). I reached for the glowing joint and took a deep hit. Then I started gagging like I had been poisoned. Seems that in France they take a little bit of pot and mix it with a whole lot of tobacco. It was enough to gag a maggot. It seemed to work though, cause I got a little light-headed from it, and wandered off to crash. I still think it was the tobacco that got me high, since I had quit smoking almost two years ago. The Cafe-Restaurant De La Mairie, located in the small (population about 200) town of Badil, was to be the scene of a banquet that marked the end of the run. Advance reservations had been made for a dinner for 67, and that was the biggest meal they had ever served in the small hotel. Around noon the bikers pulled into the square of the town, parking around the fountain that had spouted forth life giving water since the days of the Romans. They wandered into the small cafe-bar-restaurant and ordered mass quantities of warm, thick bier and vin. Soon the banquet room was opened up and the food was served. They started with thin slices of 31
Biker, 2022 for PDF 10_19_21 - MKC.indd 31
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