The Paris Review‘s blog has been highlighting stories from Pulitzer-prize finalist Joy Williams’ newest book, 99 Stories of God. Often just intangible, yet more tangibly bitesized than we’re often comfortable seeing or saying, #70 puts God in a demolition derby Wagoneer–painted pink:

The Lord had always wanted to participate in a Demolition Derby. Year after year he would attend the one-day summer event on a particular small island where junked cars, gutted and refitted for the challenge, would compete. He studied the drivers’ techniques carefully. It was mayhem! Usually the drivers would prepare their wrecks themselves, but there was also a raffle where a neophyte could win the chance to drive a donated wreck. A hundred raffle tickets were available each summer. They cost ten dollars each.

Once the Lord bought ninety-nine tickets but his name wasn’t drawn. If He hadn’t been the Lord, He would have suspected someone was trying to tell Him something.

He persisted, however, and one year he won.

You should wear long pants and boots and a long-sleeved shirt, you got that stuff? He was asked.

I do, the Lord said.

A helmet’s always a good idea too, He was told.

The Lord’s vehicle was a pink Wagoneer. The Wagoneer recognized the Lord immediately and couldn’t fathom what this could possibly mean. In terms of herself, that is, the Wagoneer.

She had once had a happy life of dogs and children, surfboards and fishing rods. Oh the picnics! The driftwood fires! Then it had all been taken away.

And now this.

Driveshaft

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