We parked a good ways away from the Border's entrance last night—Nick tells me it is protocol to do this with a new vehicle during its first month in your possession. I grumble incoherently as I tie the cords to my hood and walk quickly through the cold, 35° rain. Passing a bumper sticker, he reads aloud, "Body piercings saved my life."

Then, a moment later, "Oh, I get it." A short period of silence ensues as we give thought to the sacrifice traded for our salvation. Not much time had passed before Nick admitted his first (mis)understanding of the sticker, and couldn't understand how nipple rings could recue anybody.