They picked me up outside Wilmington, North Carolina, just before the rain began, but not before the gale-force winds blew the cigarette out of my mouth. In the dark, I touched the fresh pack of Camels in my coat pocket with relief, feeling more tired than usual. But as long as I had my smokes and my ride, the wind and the rain didn’t bother me. That was just my nature. In a matter of speaking.