Honshu, the main island of Japan, is the place where the land shakes. It’s the cold wet you feel on your skin as you drive through a mountain cloud. It’s the vast expanse of the volcanic plateau stretching into gold and beige haze that seems to stretch into eternity.  The past is what I felt when I circled Honshu looking for the ghosts of samurais and the red lantern paths of certainty.           I haven’t mentioned that this was a road trip. It all began when we picked up a car in Tokyo. I snicker when I say it was a Toyota. (Little did I know…