One night when Elvis went to Mount Washington to talk with Daya Mata and I was driving to Joan Esposito’s for a visit, I noticed a car with bright headlights tailgating me. It was one of Elvis’s most ardent fans, a two-hundred-pound female who was accompanied by another girl and a guy. Feeling unsafe, I decided to turn around and go home. She followed close all the way and by the time I drove through the gates, I was furious. Seeing her drive up to the dead-end road above our house, I sped after her, parking my car broadside across the road, blocking her. She was standing beside her car when I
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