They packed up everything at La Honda and took it up to Oregon, to Kesey's parents home. The Archives they stashed at the Spread, and, later, up at Chuck's house in Oregon. This and that they bequeathed to other heads, like the great round table with the Hell's Angels' carvings all over it. They gave that to a new psychedelic group, the Anonymous Artists of America, at a place called Rancho Diablo up at Skylonda. Whatever they could use for the Acid Tests they took along. p.239

They held the Manzanilla Test in the courtyard of Babbs' Rat Shack, under the aegis of the Purina Chow. It was a small one, with all random heads in the area welcome. No Grateful Dead, of course, so they gave the Polynesian restaurant latino combo ten bucks to come down the road and play during their intermissions. Between times the Pranksters themselves furnished the music, rolling all the fantastic coils of wire out, with Gretch on the organ, and the movies and lights and all the rest. The night was full of heat lightning, which was nice, and the Prankster musicians screeled their weird Chinese tones, wailing electronically in the Rat netherlands. But no Secret Agent Numero Uno. p.301

All the time Sandy is tying the huge clump of equipment down on the back rider's seat of the bike. It's so heavy and bulky it doesn't look like he could make ten miles with it. "I don't think you should," says Hagen. "I'll be right back," says Sandy__and he guns off, with the bike drooping in the back. An hour goes by, two hours, and he isn't back. Hagen is worried. Then Kesey shows up, back from the baths. Let's go! says Kesey. He sees the whole thing right away. The fateful Ampex that Sandy had hassled over a year ago. The sombitch has split. p.303

"Shit," says Mountain Girl, "that Ampex is the guts of the Acid Test." The whole complicated thing of the instruments, the variable lag, the synchronicity, the taping for the Archives__they can't do it without the Ampex. p.304