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Firing along 280, the day sultry, windows wide, disc players whirring, the Saab and the Trans Am snagged each other's music. Bach's English Suites entangled with the beat of the Grateful Dead in the flailing air between the cars - ill-matched wrestlers. Bach became

a tern, soared flirting off alone, fluttering in arpeggios; the Dead pounded on on rhino feet, in the fast lane - ahead, of course.

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