The blur of snowflakes seemed like a shower of stars shining through the high-beams of the old Chrysler mini-van. Looking out the side window I could see only my reflection and a few of the glowing green dials from the radio. It must have been two in the morning. As we raced past a small car that seemed to be snailing along, I looked over to my Grandpa sitting at the helm; he was never one to follow the posted speed limits. “Is this going to work?”

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