It was raining. Monday night, and the B-52's were playing Harpo's, an old movie theater on the east side of Detroit. Anticipation was the drug.

Creeping along 14 Mile Road, I pulled up next to a muscled-up '69 Nova. The moustachioed guy driving was wearing a cowboy hat, and smoking a Marlboro. His stereo's blasting "Planet Claire" so loud that he could've been arrested for disturbing the peace. Just before the light turned green, he started brake-torquing. Bluish smoke poured from beneath the car, and everyone behind the motorhead had to crawl through the burnt rubber fog.