Three in the morning on the Black Horse Pike, and the world is orange under the sodium lights and falling white. That is the hour this work belongs to — the plow out ahead of the school buses, the salt down before the first shift leaves for the ramps at Route 42. Gloucester Township wakes up in pieces: a driveway in Blenheim, a lot in Blackwood, a walk cut clean to the door in Glendora. There is a real satisfaction in handing a street back to the people who live on it, black pavement steaming a little as the sky goes gray. By breakfast it looks like nothing happened, which is exactly the point.