1 Do you think I'm INSANE?''

This question came from Elon Musk near the very end of a long dinnner

we shared at a high-end seafood restaurant in silicon Valley. I'd gotten to

the restaurant first and settled down with a gin and tonic, knowing Musk

would--as ever--be late. After about fifteen minutes, Musk showed up

wearing leather shoes, designer jeans, and a plaid dress shirt. Musk stands

six foot one but ask anyone who knows him and they'II confirm that he

seems much bigger than that. He's absurdly broad-shouldered, sturdy, and

thick. You'd figure he would use this frame to his advantage and perform an

alpha-male strut when entering a room. Instead , he tends to be almost

sheepish. It's head titled slightly down while walking, a quick handshake

hello after reaching the table, and thenbutt in seat. From there, Musk needs

a few minutes before he warms upand looks at ease.

Musk asked me to dinner for a negotiation of sorts. Eighteen months

earlier, I'd informed him of my plans to write a book about him, and he'd

informed me of his plan not to cooperate. His rejection stung but thrust me

into dogged reporter mode. If I had to do this book without him, so be it.

Plenty of people had left Musk's companies, Tesla Motors and SpaceX, and

would talk, and I already knew a lot of his friends. The interviews followed

one after another, month after month, and two hundered or so people into the

process , I heard from Musk once again. He called me at home and declared

that things could go one of two ways; he could make my life very difficult

or he could help with the project after all. He'd be willing to cooperate if he

could read the book before it went to publication, and could add footnotes

throughout it. He would not meddle with my text, but he wanted the chance

to set the record straight in spots that he deemed factually inaccurate. I

understood where this was coming from. Musk wanted a measure of control

over his life's story. He's also wired like a scientist and suffers mental

anguish at the sight of a factual error. A mistake on a printed page would

gnaw at his soul---forever. while I could understand his perspective, I could

not let him read the book, for professional, personal, and practical reasons.

Musk has his version of the truth, and it's not always the version of the truth

that the rest of the world shares. He's prone to verbose answers to even the simplest of questions as well, and the thought of thirty-page footnotes

seemed all too real. Still, we agreed to have dinner, chat all this out, and see

where it left us.