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Rudolf Ponomarev
Rudolf Ponomarev

The Hard Way Out: My Life With The Hells Angels And Why I Turned Against Them Download [WORK] Epub Mobi Pdf

Cohn came down, finally, and we all went out to the car. It was a big,closed car, with a driver in a white duster with blue collar and cuffs,and we had him put the back of the car down. He piled in the bags and westarted off up the street and out of the town. We passed some lovelygardens and had a good look back at the town, and then we were out inthe country, green and rolling, and the road climbing all the time. Wepassed lots of Basques with oxen, or cattle, hauling carts along theroad, and nice farmhouses, low roofs, and all white-plastered. In theBasque country the land all looks very rich and green and the houses andvillages look well-off and clean. Every village had a pelota court andon some of them kids were playing in the hot sun. There were signs onthe walls of the churches saying it was forbidden to play pelota againstthem, and the houses in the villages had red tiled roofs, and then theroad turned off and commenced to climb and we were going way up closealong a hillside, with a valley below and hills stretched off backtoward the sea. You couldn't see the sea. It was too far away. You couldsee only hills and more hills, and you knew where the sea was.

The Hard Way Out: My Life with the Hells Angels and Why I Turned Against Them download epub mobi pdf

The bull saw them and charged. A man shouted from behind one of theboxes and slapped his hat against the planks, and the bull, before hereached the steer, turned, gathered himself and charged where the manhad been, trying to reach him behind the planks with a half-dozen quick,searching drives with the right horn.

The bull-fight on the second day was much better than on the first.Brett sat between Mike and me at the barrera, and Bill and Cohn went upabove. Romero was the whole show. I do not think Brett saw any otherbull-fighter. No one else did either, except the hard-shelledtechnicians. It was all Romero. There were two other matadors, but theydid not count. I sat beside Brett and explained to Brett what it was allabout. I told her about watching the bull, not the horse, when the bullscharged the picadors, and got her to watching the picador place thepoint of his pic so that she saw what it was all about, so that itbecame more something that was going on with a definite end, and less ofa spectacle with unexplained horrors. I had her watch how Romero tookthe bull away from a fallen horse with his cape, and how he held himwith the cape and turned him, smoothly and suavely, never wasting thebull. She saw how Romero avoided every brusque movement and saved hisbulls for the last when he wanted them, not winded and discomposed butsmoothly worn down. She saw how close Romero always worked to the bull,and I pointed out to her the tricks the other bull-fighters used to makeit look as though they were working closely. She saw why she likedRomero's cape-work and why she did not like the others.


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