Another OCW Awards Banquet and he had struck out again. Three contest entries and nothing to show for his efforts—for the third year. Every year he could count on two things: Shirley Miller would win a boatload of awards, and it would be Corvette Weekend in Eureka Springs. He didn’t know who was more insufferable. The smug Corvette owners, revving their engines, or Shirley preening.

Disgusted, he left for the motel. Twenty Vettes were parked outside. As he passed them, he pounded each one setting off the alarms. Motel doors flew open.

He smiled, and then he ran.