Brothas Be, Yo Like George, Ain’t That Funkin’ Kinda Hard On You? by George Clinton with Ben Greenman:
California was a rarity. For the most part, we were back East and in the Midwest, touring hard as always. One night, Calvin was driving and I dozed off. When I woke up, the grass was parting in front of us and trees were whizzing by on the left. Calvin was still in the driver’s seat, but with his head down on one shoulder, snoring lightly. I couldn’t reach the wheel, so I started to whisper to him so he wouldn’t wake up alarmed. He resurfaced with a look in his eyes that was so calm that it must have been desperate, took the car up the embankment, fishtailing like a motherf*cker the whole way. Fuzzy and Grady woke up, too, and they cheered him on: “You got it, Calvin.” Heads were hitting the ceiling of the car, but we ended up right back on the highway, like we had never left.