About 20 miles outside of Jacksonville, Florida, the headlights on our 1965 Mustang went out. Pitch-black, at 75 mph. I immediately slowed as I pulled and pushed on the light knob. Nothing. I flipped the fog lamp switch. One lit up, but it was pointed at the trees lining the freeway. Tightly gripping the steering wheel, I leaned forward, straining to see through the windshield’s rock chips and bug guts.
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