Following my meeting with Tim Furnish, I race back to the apartment where I’m squatting to find JK McKnight’s number. I call him, and he groggily offers to meet me for drinks…

I climb the stairs to the front porch and glance back to my car in the driveway. I press the doorbell slowly, and step back from the door. The porch is covered…

Beyond the Daniel Beard Bridge, Cincinnati disappears. Skyscrapers stretch high in the rearview mirror, and Kentucky’s electric green expanse begins to encroach on the car. It’s a humid day in early July—the…