The phone rang last night around midnight, waking me from a sound sleep. My mind raced. What could be wrong? The preacher was on the line. "Philip, come on down here [the parsonage is halfway down Howard Street]. Your pickup truck has just crashed into the fence."
Sure enough, when I got to her house my Toyota was blocking the lane, backed into Joyce's neighbor's fence. And her pickup was too!
Joyce was up late, working in her office, when she heard her truck start up [she had left the key in the ignition] and saw the headlights go on. She immediately rushed out and yelled at the car thief who promptly backed the vehicle into the fence across the street and then fled down the road.
Joyce called the police, and then went outside to move her truck. Before she could get to her pickup she saw headlights racing toward her and retreated to the porch, only to witness my Toyota swerve around her vehicle, crash into her fence and then back up into the neighbor's fence also. The perpetrator fled again, this time out into the darkness.
By the time I got there the deputies had arrived with their trusty drug dog. The dog quickly picked up a scent and they were off. Unfortunately the trail led back down to the Pelican restaurant where a drifter had been run off the parking lot earlier for suspicious behavior. They resumed the search, this time in the other direction.
I went home and crawled back in bed. I'm sure I'll hear the rest of the saga later today, but my guess is that whoever is to blame can't hide for long.
High drama for this normally sleepy little village. Indeed!