There was a screech that I felt through my chest. Lights started flickering for a minute and then they went our completely. I attempted to calm my nerves by using what little light that poured through the dim tunnel encompassing our metal death-trap to read my Boston Herald. After about ten traumatizing minutes of tedious squinting, the T took off again, lights resuming power and we pulled ever so smoothly into the Harvard Sq. stop. Terrorism? No. Thunderstorms? No. Just Traffic.