As Sunday broke, two bodies remained under the silo, as still as statuary, one beside a galvanized trough, the other toppled a few feet farther, facedown in the bluegrass. Nearby, two charred fenceposts were crossed in a ring of ashes from which a slow line of smoke crawled toward tall signboards a half mile out--mainsails and topgallants placarding gas and food and lodging--beneath which the endless semis charged, one upon one upon another.