Black Rock City: Public Transport Facilities

It's mid-afternoon on I think the Friday of Burning Man and the four of us are walking towards the big empty space at the centre of town, where the Man and all the crazy art live and where the Critical Tits Bike Ride is about to happen. Blazing sunshine and our boots kicking up clouds of white dust. Somewhere near the corner of 8.30 and Chance a long yellow convertible with Black Rock City Cabs stencilled on the side rolls up alongside us. "You can't walk in this heat," the driver shouts, "are you crazy? Get in!" There are already people perched all over the car, which is upholstered inside with thick curly wool, its windscreen garlanded with fake roses covered in dust, but they see me looking dubious and urge me to squeeze in. The driver is in some sort of all-over black bodysuit and looks like a cross between a gimp and a ninja, except for his straw hat. The guy in the passenger seat – sharp but dishevelled suit, tie askew – could be a Reservoir Dog. Neal and Alex stay on foot, but Richard and I climb in. I perch on one of the doors and the car rolls on at 5mph, the speed limit within the city; it's not much faster than walking but it's a lot more fun.

"Grab the car and hang on," the Reservoir Dog is telling passers-by on bikes. At one point there are eighteen of us in and on and clinging to the car, all jumbled up among the fun-fur and fake flowers, and every single person I can see could be the star of their own comic book series. The Dog opens a briefcase with reinforced corners and I half expect a light to shine out of it like the case in Pulp Fiction but instead he starts handing out cold beer. One of the cyclists lets go for a moment to take a swig from his hip flask, then offers it to me. "It's Scotch," he says, "have some," and I do and it's like a miniature sun of my own glowing in my stomach. The music on the car stereo changes to Today by the Smashing Pumpkins as we reach the centre and the street gives way to open space. People career by on customised bikes and hoot and cheer to see the car we're in so groaning with people. It looks like the bike ride we came to see is already pretty much over – the last few topless women are going by, to more cheering – but the destination didn't really matter anyway. The gimp-ninja dances on the bonnet and inside the car we all sing along with the stereo: today is the greatest, today is the greatest…

**

That was just one little moment in a solid week of random, weird, cool things. Certainly nowhere near the most important one. But I have a notebook and a half stuffed with travel journal, thousands and thousands of words of "and then... and then," and I have to start somewhere. I've been back for nearly two weeks, two weeks of pretty constant thinking it over, and it's only starting to sort itself out into postable form now. So. Much. Awesomeness.

The rest of the pictures are here.