
It was all too much-the car that had been buried for 52 years yet started right up, the flashback to the 1960s and the ghostly girl, the bugs the size of dogs whose stench filled the cab and caused me to wretch. I gripped the door handle instantly-even as the little chrome knob...

Then I was off, cruising the streets of Schenectady as though I hadn't a care in the world, relishing it every time I drew alongside some kid in his Honda, speeding up a little as I handled corners, tapping the horn as I rumbled past female joggers. The truth of it is I was...

That's when I really noticed it, the fact that the landscape immediately around the car had changed; that it had--reverted, somehow. I can only describe what I saw, which was that none of the vehicles at the light could have been newer than a '66, and that the light itself...