Hunter S Thompson was a prolific writer, who’s writing changed the face of journalism and has a huge following around the world. As well as being a writer, Hunter was a ‘car guy’. Much of his work hints at his adventures (or misadventures) with two and four wheels, using vehicles of all shapes and sizes.
In the book Songs of the Doomed Hunter describes his experiences with the mighty Lamborghini LM002 4×4 supercar engined jeep. Our question is…
Where is Hunter S Thompson’s Lamborghini LM002 now?
Although much of his work has become widely read after his death, based on the blurred line between fact and fiction in much of Hunter S Thompson’s writing; it could be said that HST never owned an LM002. Despite being a well paid journalist and respected freelance writer, HST wasn’t the kind of person to have $100,000 at his disposal to lavish on outrageous purchases (If anyone can clarify or correct us on this point we’d love to hear from you).
Would he have spent it all on Heineken and ammunition before getting the chance to park an LM002 outside Owl Farm?
Cars like the Lamborghini LM002 don’t disappear, and they’re not cheap in 2014. A recent auction of an LM002 is expected to make around $250,000, and the vehicles will only be appreciating. Being a rare vehicle, the chances are that someone knows what happened to Hunter’s Lamborghini, and knowing that the great HST himself had been listed on the vehicle registration document would be sure to cause a stir if the car turned up at auction.
If you can share any knowledge on the whereabouts of Hunter’s Lamborghini, or whether he even owned the vehicle, then do get in touch – we’d love to find out more.
Here’s what Hunter S Thompson had to say about the Lamborghini LM002:
The big weird jeep was still there, lurking peacefully under the trees and almost invisible in the mist and the hanging Spanish moss… It was huge, but it had no colour. It came from the factory with no paint – only a dull stainless steel finish that soon faded to a filthy shade of yellow and millions of tiny reddish pits all over the hood and doors and even the Panzer-style undercarriage.
“Theses holes are not rust,” the pompous little factory rep assured me. “What you see here is priceless chemical development that was applied to the vehicle after fifty-five years of careful research at our secret Colour Lab in the Milanese Alps.. So you must be patient” he warned. “This process takes time. It involves the slow liberation of the Astro-Bacteria, which is frequently lethal to laymen. And which did, in fact, end the life of the tragic genius who first invented it, a man named Squane from Austria”.
Well, maybe so, I figured. It was ugly and pitted all over with millions of festering poison pits, which boiled and bubbled constantly and infected all who touched it…But it was a full-bore Lamborghini hot rod, a monstrous thing that weighed 5000 pounds with bulletproof glass and twelve cylinders with a top speed of 125 miles per hour and a .50 caliber machine-gun mount behind the drivers seat… One night on the Big Sur Highway I beat a Porsche 928 from the Carmel Bridge to Nepenthe by nine minutes, mainly because I beat her like a cheap hound on the curves. It was a small woman driving the 928 and she went all to pieces when I passed her at 110 on the Bixby Creek Bridge and then squeezed her into the sand dunes…
Why not? It happened to me once – in Sacramento, when some Japs in a brute Lamborghini ran me down The Parkway like I was standing still, then bashed me repeatedly at top speed until I finally lost control… It was one of the ugliest moments of my life and I’ll never forget it. Those tattooed swine! I should have had them locked up, but I was helpless. After that, I got one of my own, for $150,000
It was still early and we still had an hour to kill, so I drove around for a while and listened to Bob Dylan songs while I took the big Lambo through Cherokee Park at speeds that caused Andrew to lose his grip again. He wept and jabbered and cursed me as I aimed the huge tank of a jeep down narrow roads full of S-curves at a hundred miles an hour without even touching the brakes
– Hunter S Thompson, Songs of the Doomed