(See Cover) The trim white car rolled restlessly through the winding roads of Bloomfield Hills, like a high-strung pony dancing to get started on its morning run.
In that auto-conscious Detroit suburb, where people can spend whole evenings talking about the virtues of a taillight, it did not go long unnoticed despite its lack of identifying insignia. Groups of children on their way to school turned to stare at it and point. The driver of a Volkswagen raised his fingers in a V-for-victory sign. As the car picked up speed and headed south...
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