By Derrick Carpenter
It's a crisp November night, the Friday after Thanksgiving, and you're waiting for your car to warm-up before you start that long drive back home from your father's house in Philly, to North Jersey. There's a tap at your driver's side window, you look up into a beam of blinding light. It's the police. The officer motions for you to roll down your window; he wants to know why you're sitting in the car with the engine running.