The heavy 88 fought; after badly scraping her bottom, she swerved left, then right, swiped a few big trees, and took out smaller ones. She danced on and off the shoulder of the road. And then, met two trees which wouldn’t yield, even to the biggest, baddest automobile the Oldsmobile Company could make. Those trees grabbed hold of the front bumper, and the Olds, following the laws of physics, did exactly what it was supposed to do: it redirected all of its kinetic and potential energy and spun, and flipped and flipped and flipped…
Ruth and driver were ejected from their front seat. In the rear, Edith continued screaming and holding tight, staying in the car as it flipped…one, last, time, landing upside down, crushing her.
Somehow Ruth’s landing was very different: she bounced into the woods unscathed. As for the driver, the coroner said, “Mr. Jackson Pollock was fully conscious, arrested in space, until he hit the tree,” the day the art died.
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