Three of sunrises ago, I found myself gingerly navigating my battered, stormy '93 Volvo, through a ribbon of back road, absently listening to the scraggly sound of my radio through the awning of organic green. I don't know why I was on the road, still gently propelling the accelerator around half-moon curves, threading my vehicle through the wilderness. I didn't have a destination, just the impression that I didn't want to stop from going somewhere, anywhere.