And suddenly I realised that I was no longer driving the car consciously. I was driving it by a kind of instinct, only I was in a different dimension.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I mean, I guess I realized subconsciously that this is what I should be doing before I realized it, consciously. Verbally, I don't think I had committed to it, even though I was driving everywhere, every night, just trying to get on stage.
I was racing through life, utterly confused and angry. I don't know if I was out of control; it was more like I felt frustrated with myself and everything I saw happening around me.
By 1990 I went back to no gasoline; I was just riding around on my bike, taking the bus. I had a tiny little electric car that didn't go very far or very fast. People thought I'd lost my mind. Even my own family thought I'd lost my mind.
Then suddenly something just kicked me. I kind of woke up and realised that I was in a different atmosphere than you normally are. My immediate reaction was to back off, slow down.
Driving will never be away from me - I can't just give it up. It's all I've ever done, and there's something about being in that car.
When in the end, the day came on which I was going away, I learned the strange learning that things can happen which we ourselves cannot possibly imagine, either beforehand, or at the time when they are taking place, or afterwards when we look back on them.
From the time I was taught how to drive, I was taught how to behave when I'm stopped.
I tend to view my life as an accident, almost as a dream.
This wretched brain gave way, and I became a wreck at random driven, without one glimpse of reason or heaven.
There wasn't a moment where I got into cars. It wasn't a conscience decision or something that came later, it was there since I was born. I just love it.