There is another way a book could "appear." One Sunday morning in December of 1968 I was climbing the winding road to Zabriskie point at dawn. My red pickup truck with white roof had two motorcycles in the back. One was my desert sled Norton P11 and the other was a highly modified Ducati monza Jr. that my wife rode. Passing an old mine road of bleached gravel I looked in the rear view mirro and saw we were not alone. A rare mercedes 600 "Grosser" was behind us taking the bends pressing hard up the incline. The chortle of the Chevrolet V-8 became a bit more laborious as I urged my choice on. The imagined contest continued as the impassive sky openned with the light of dawn. We were just holding our own as the product of German rebirth toiled luxuriously behind us it's chrome catching a glint f new light from time to time. Then it was over and we were roling up to the cliff face at Zabriskie Point looking down onto the Devil's Golf Course below. Now stopped and taking in the oranges and exploding red before us in the valley lit up from behind us my wife shouted,"That's William Holden." She was jumping out of the door now. Sure enough the actor in so many Navy themed pictures had been the driver of the mystery car behind us. My wife was talking animatedly to the old actor. I remebered something about how his finaces were shaky but that did not seem to fit the well over $14,000 car he stood next to. Then they called me to come over and the actors voice was cruel and forceful. I understood now what it was to act.