It was just after midnight The Canadian radio station I had been listening to had been fading in and out; now it was gone. The last notes of God Save The Queen drifted off into the ether and the rush of background static was all that was left in the spot on the dial where the station had sunk into silence. I fiddled around, looking for something else to keep me awake: a voice, a banjo, a commercial for mail-order tombstones, anything. After midnight on the lonely roads of New England there isn't much to hear on the dial. I finally picked up a Cincinnati station that was barely making it on the long skip. I listened as the Fiat bored its way through the total blackness of Maine. There wasn't another car that I could see ahead or behind. . .