The other day, as I was driving across the Brooklyn Bridge, the brakes of my car, a twenty-one-year-old Toyota, stopped working. I pressed the pedal. The car kept rolling. I was going slowly enough that I didn’t hit anyone, or anything, but the feeling was nauseating. The emergency brake, thankfully, still worked, and I inched into Manhattan with my hazards on. Afterward, as I sat in the car, safely parked behind City Hall but shaking with fear, it struck me that the incident was a bit too on the nose, too appropriate, for this moment. The public-health system that should have slowed the pandemic has failed. Now, as flu season arrives, the uncertain course of the coronavirus in the U.S. can feel like a queasy ride toward further disaster. What will the crucible of winter hold? Click to Read the Whole Story.