A story from Reserve Lieutenant Bob Wood

Bob Wood came to work for the Menlo Park Police in 1974 as a reserve officer. He has held the title reserve lieutenant for most of that time. Retiring recently from United States Geological Survey (USGS), he still maintains his active reserve status in Menlo Park and his passion for police work. "Woodsie" has a reputation for having a rather tenacious attitude about his investigations; he possesses a quality crucial to all good investigators: an insatiable curiosity.

By the time Wood reached the accident scene, the pedestrian was being loaded into the ambulance. The accident had happened right across the street from the fire station, so all the emergency equipment was on the scene in moments.

The driver of the truck that struck the pedestrian was seated behind the wheel with his head in his hands. As Wood headed towards the truck he got an encouraging nod from the paramedics indicating that the victim was likely to be okay.

Wood knocked gently on the truck driver's door, and the man behind the wheel exited heavily from the cab. "Geez, I just didn't see him. My damn passenger-side rear-view mirror hit him in the back. He stepped off the curb and … whack! Actually knocked him down!"

Wood listened as the man nervously explained the accident and filed through his glove box for items Wood requested. "Mr. Caldwell," Wood explained, "the medics said the guy's going to be just fine. They took him to the hospital just for insurance purposes. They're going to check him out and he'll probably be back to work before the day's out. Could've been much worse."

Wood examined Caldwell's hands as he took back the documents from him; they were still shaking. Wood told him he was going to the hospital to get the victim's information for his report, and that he'd give him a call and update him on the pedestrian's condition. Caldwell shook his hand and climbed back into the truck. Wood gave the door a few reassuring taps and headed to the hospital for his interview with the victim.

Wood walked the maze of hallways to the ER and found Channing, his victim, waiting impatiently in room 5 of the ER. Channing was sitting on the bed in a backless smock swinging his legs off the side. As Wood entered the room Channing said, "This is stupid! I told him I was fine—my shoulder probably won't even be bruised."

Wood agreed with Channing's assessment and hesitated for a moment, then delivered the cliché anyway: "Better safe than …"

Channing finished it for him: " … sorry."

Wood began jotting down Channing's information, and the small talk turned to a mutual interest. Wood had worked next door for 30 years at the USGS; Channing, an engineer, said he had considered working for the Survey on several occasions.

When the doctor arrived with x-rays in hand, both men looked hopefully at the young intern. After inserting the x-rays into the wall lightbox, the young doctor began to make encouraging noises as he examined the two prints. Suddenly he snapped off the lamp and spun on the two men. "Mr. Channing, who's your regular physician?"

Channing looked at the ceiling as if it held the answer and squinted. He slowly shook his head and shrugged. "Doc, it's been 20 years since I've seen a doctor. Hell, I'm healthy as a horse. Always have been." Wood could see the small ironic smile forming on the doctor's face. He waited for the punch line.

"Mr. Channing,"  the doctor continued, "your shoulder is just fine. While looking at your x-rays, however, we discovered an aneurysm on your aorta. A most fortuitous accident, Mr. Channing. You just lie back and relax. We'll need to admit you. You won't be going anywhere for awhile."

When the doctor left, Channing turned to Wood and shook his head. Wood leaned over toward Channing and whispered, "If I could make a couple of suggestions­—a lottery ticket and a thank-you note to the driver …"