A motley crew of travelers, wastrels, freaks, Fellinis and other assorted flotsam had gathered around the Bedford. Fred was doing the tickets, playing-cards with an Om sign scribbled on in bright green. $20 to Kathmandu. Non-stop. Smoke included. Two drunken Swedes had already claimed the back bench and passed out. Hawkwind was blaring from the speakers. Silver Machine. A small group of German hippies - despite the heat they were dressed in Afghani furs - sat sweating in the aisle, playing cards, gambling for matchsticks.
The citizens of Delhi stopped and stared in disbelief when Pirkko and Ilona began to dance along the roof of the bus, dressed in sarongs and t-shirts, while the passengers were standing around, smoking, stashing their luggage, trading stories.
They were nice girls. They
