Michigan Classic
N A DIRT road following northern Michigan’s Boardman River, a symphony of gravel plays in the wheel wells of my old Ford. The trail of dust kicked up behind me settles back onto the road, as if to cover my tracks. This place is meant to stay hidden. The road leads to a clearing in the forest and a couple of modest wooden buildings—one a home and the other a shop. The Boardman runs behind both. I shut off
