Let me try to explain what just happened. I am laying in bed, attempting to fall back asleep, then suddenly, faintly, from outside: "I don't really ca-a-are, if it's WRONG or if it's right!" Steely Dan! I call Hilary in to listen. "I don't hear it." I open the window and we look out. Is it the guys at the construction site across the street? No, it's coming from a maroon van parked outside our apartment. The music stops but the guitar keeps going. I look closer. The man in the driver's seat is holding a miniature guitar (Thunderbird-shaped). He rewinds the music to get the part right. The angle from the third floor is pretty steep, so we can only see his hands. I dress quickly and we run down to the street. A Dodge Ram 250, giant curtained windows, amazing twisted stripes in a gray-to-white fade, a ladder on the back. It's "Any Major Dude" now; he's harmonizing with the melody. I dare to look as we cross the street. Buzz cut under a tall hat, cheap aviators. I want to know: is this the real thing or a hipster put-on? We stand around the corner where we can only see the guitar's headstock in the open window. A little bit of "Barrytown," then cut to "Pretzel Logic." I look in again on the way back. His hat has an eagle-and-flag motif, and there's a tiny flag hung by the passenger seat. The guy is in his 20s or 30s. His chin is long and hard. I know he's looking at me through those shades. Back inside, I take up my perch at the window. He flips through a CD book. "Black Friday," then "Dr. Wu." He gets 85% of Phil Woods' sax solo. Suddenly he puts the guitar away and takes something from the passenger seat. Please tell me he's rolling a j. It's a keyboard phone and he's texting madly. He takes a Marlboro from the pack in his breast pocket and readjusts his coffee cup. A girl, early 20s, opens the passenger door and hops in. Her clothes are neutral and offer no clues. She has a backpack. There is a tremendous sound, he chunks the shifter into drive, and the van heaves off down the hill. I'd like to think a drug deal, or worse, had been completed, but she was probably across the street filming for his thesis project. Well, A+.