If you were to look for me, you would find me hovering on the edges, where the sand turns to surf, the forest to meadow, and the madding crowd grows sparse and scattered. Turn your head fast enough, and you may see my shadow slipping around a corner. If you wish to lure me out, leave a stack of books, preferably of theoretical physics, at my last known location. I will slink through the door to fetch them, and an offering of coffee, hot and black, will snare me faster than any bear trap. The promise of a long road trip, where we barely leave the highway, will have me lingering, intrigued and agonizing over routes, day vs. night travel, and if I'll scare you too badly with my cruising speeds. Don't expect much conversation, but be assured that my playlists are top-shelf, as is my audio soundstage. Let's roll.