Chapter 3 - My House Was Surrounded With Cops

One day I was sharing drugs with some friends of mine from the bike club. We were passing a marijuana pipe around when there was a knock at the door. I went to the door to find my porch filled with cops and my house surrounded. I gave a warning and delayed opening the door as long as I could. When I opened it, a cop informed me he had a warrant for Zip, (the name I was known by). He asked if I was Zip. Although they didn't know my proper name, I was too well known as Zip to lie about it. If they had a warrant, they must have had someone who could identify me. All past attempts to prosecute me for anything worth talking about had failed. I wasn't too worried about the cops and their warrant. I told them I was Zip and after a search of my place turned up nothing useful to them, we went downtown.

When I found out what they had on me, I though it was a joke. That was a failure on my part to recognize how determined the state of Michigan had become in their efforts to remove me from society.

Remember this was toward the end of the 1960's when the whole world seemed to be smoking marijuana. In Ann Arbor, A collage town about fifty miles south of Flint, they had got to the place where they were writing tickets for possession of small amounts. For a few years, it seemed like everybody had turned to drugs. I had sold a nickel bag to some guy who had been busted for something, and was ready to do anything to keep out of prison.

The Governor of the state of Michigan had declared war on the bike clubs. This may have had something to do with it, I don't know.

The police informed me I had sold a teaspoon of marijuana to their guy, and he would testify against me. Apparently I had made a second sale they also knew about. The plan was to get me with one of the two sales. It seemed like such a waste of their time considering all the things I was mixed up in. In no time, I made bond and was back on the street.

This was a time in my life totally given to drugs. I was being destroyed by them. During this time I was living in an old and large house in a rough part of town. I had rented a second house nearby where I could go to hide or sleep. My main house had a third floor that was all one big room. I fixed up the third floor to hold my drug parties in. I had spent weeks turning it into a place people would never forget. It was filled with optical illusions and things to confound the mind at the best of times. I have seen people leave that were not on drugs because of all the optical illusions confusing their mind. There was an unending parade of people at the door hoping to gain access to the trip room. No one would think of visiting without bring a gift of drugs.

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