August 21, 2002
I was going into the office at about 8:25 this morning and was following this gray pickup, when it suddenly swerved, then sped up, went into the desert, disappeared in a cloud of dust, hit a power pole in a wash about fifty yards in. I pulled over and got out. Called 911 on my cell phone. Me and another woman got down to the wreck and it looked bad, I just knew someone was dead. Truck upside down, smashed flat, water leaking out of radiator. The truck took out a saguaro, two palo verde trees, hit the pole, then flipped. After several moments, the driver crawled out the passenger window with a tiny scratch on his arm. The operator told us to tell him to sit down. But instead, he crawls back into the window and we hear the motor turn. I tell him to get out, but he says "I need my keys." I notice that his pants are wet. Did he pee his pants, or did he spill his coffee? He is in the cab, with his feet sticking out for some time (it was my impression, he was retrieving something or hiding something). When the sheriffs and the paramedics arrive, they know the guy (evidently he's an ex cop and current town council member). One of the officers asks for my name. I say, "Bob Bell" and he looks up and says, "Hey, nice magazine. I need a subscription." As he’s taking down my vitals, a shirtless local, named Richard, stumbles out from a nearby house. His hair is cuck-a-rooed and he tells us the power pole shut off his AC, waking him up. The officer continues his interogation of me: “How old are you?” he asks me. I answer "55," and at this point Richard winces and says, "Ouch." I had to laugh. After witnessing all the carnage in his back yard, the thing that makes him shudder is my age. It was funny.
Got into work around nine. Went over gift guide and Butch and Sundance layouts. Lots of holes. Sage and Robert shot my artwork (3 pieces) for possible cover images.
Dan Buck sent me a great quote from Kurt Vonnegut (in reference to the TW timeline published here on the site): "There is no reason goodness cannot triumph over evil, so long as the angels are as organized as the Mafia."