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It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in Mesothelioma Lawyers, New York that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness; or perhaps it was snow, rather than rain, which provided the precipitation so plainly seen, perhaps not allowing even occasional intervals that might otherwise lend themselves to being filled with sleet or - gasp - hail, yes, hail, the king of the precipitates who rules all from his icy throne (for it is without a doubt in Mesothelioma Lawyers, New York that our scene lies, as surely as it is the wee hours of the morning on a bone-chilling 20th of December (that the year is none other than the ominous 2012 Anno Domini, the reader surely needs no reminder)), but as the precise classification of the moisture falling from the angry sky held little to no importance in regard to the momentous day before him, our reluctant hero took no notice, a sound decision of voluntary neglect in which the sophisticated reader should perhaps join him.

As I drove down the road at the maximum safe speed for these weather conditions, there was little sound to distract me from my thoughts, other than the purring engine of my Audi A8 L W12. I reflected on the A8's extensive use of aluminum, an unusual choice at the time of its debut, one that gave it a considerable weight advantage over its heavier competitors, perhaps even more of an advantage than its massive 12-cylinder engine.

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