I remember the first time I saw one of Baron Margo’s rocketcars. It was parked at House of Pies, a little diner near my old house, and, sitting there between some boring sedans, it felt like that parking spot was a rift between universes. Being a writer, I think I said something profound like “holy crap, look at that.”
Most people assume Burning Man is just this mecca of sex and drugs. It isn't. Well, it is, but that's a much smaller part of the picture than people make it out to be.