Let's pretend that I was killed on that day, when I wasn't.
The day when my guardian angel managed to throw my F-86F half a second from becoming a fireball in the desert, up into a clear sky, way above what would have been the impact point.
If she hadn't done this, if she hadn't spared my life time after time in the 80-some years that we've been together, I wouldn't have written this book that ...