Easy Rider Page #5

I'm a lawyer.

Done a lot of work for the ACLU.

"George Hanson."

You think you can help us

get out of here with no sweat?

I imagine that I can,

if you haven't killed anybody.

At least nobody white.

See there? Twenty-five dollars.

And no razor blades.

Very groovy, George.

Thank you.

"Very groovy". See there?

I'll bet nobody ever said that to you.

Oh, by the way, Bob,

thanks for the aspirin before.

George, I'm gettin' to think

you're a regular regular around here.

I'm not gonna tell your dad.

You just gotta be more careful.

Well, Pat, that'd be real good if the

powers that be wouldn't hear about this.

I mean, the old man hasn't been

feeling too good. You know what I mean?

Well, now, George, you know

we won't tell your dad about that.

- Isn't that right, Bob?

- Right.

Well...

what do you say we take a look

at these super machines...

we've been hearing so much about?

Let's get it on.

- Thanks a lot, Bob.

- Sure. See you later.

I'll take care of it later.

All right, Carl.

Thanks a million.

Say hello to the missus for me.

Here's the first of the day, fellas.

To old D.H. Lawrence.

Indians!

Thank you.

You know...

I must have started off

to Mardi Gras...

six or seven times.

Never got further than the state line.

Governor of Louisiana give me this.

"Madame Tinkertoy's

House of Blue Lights.

Corner of Bourbon and Toulouse,

New Orleans, Louisiana."

Now, this is supposed to be

the finest whorehouse in the South.

These ain't no pork chops.

These are U.S. prime.

Out of sight, man.

Oh, I'd like to get over there.

How long did you boys say

it was gonna take you to get down there?

- About two or three days.

- Two or three days? Is that right?

Oh, boy, I sure wish

I was going with you.

Yeah?

You got a helmet?

Oh, I've got a helmet.

I got a beauty!

Well, old buddy, I never thought

I'd ever see you again.

You know I threw this thing away

one week ago.

My mother, of all people, retrieved it.

I can't understand that.

She didn't even want me

to play football.

Always afraid

I was gonna get hurt.

And 12 years later,

I find it on my pillow...

with a note

pinned next to it saying...

"Save this for your son."

Fire.

Do this instead.

Oh, no, thanks. I got some store-bought

right over here of my own.

No, man, this is grass.

You mean marijuana?

Yeah.

Lord, have mercy.

Is that what that is?

Let me see that.

Marijuana, hmm.

Light it up.

Oh, no, no.

I couldn't do that.

I mean, I've got enough problems

with the booze and all.

I mean, I can't afford

to get hooked.

You won't get hooked.

Yeah, well, I know,

but it leads to harder stuff.

Except y-you say it's all right?

Well, all right, then.

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