WINDHAM, N.H.--Bill Bradley likes to say that his campaign rejects "politics as usual." But out here on the campaign trail, it's John McCain who is the true radical. A day with McCain in New Hampshire is a marathon of candor without precedent in modern presidential politics.

McCain started the day with a town meeting at a high school in Raymond--his 108^th such event in New Hampshire. After speaking, he fielded every question and comment the audience could muster. After that, he held a press conference in the snow outside. After the press conference, he got on his bus and took more questions from reporters--until the next town meeting, where he began the cycle all over again. McCain talks until your notebook is full, your tape player is out of batteries, and your pen is out of ink. After a couple of hours, every journalist in his entourage has the same, enviable problem: too much good material. 

McCain's bull sessions on the "Straight Talk Express" have become the hottest ticket on the campaign trail this year. Today there were dozens more reporters who wanted to kibitz than there were seats on the bus. But other than the need to take turns sitting next to him, McCain's relationship with the press remains remarkably similar to the one I wrote about during his announcement tour last fall. Surprisingly, the increased scrutiny and intensity of a closely fought race haven't changed the tone or style of his campaign. It remains low-key, free form, and fun as hell.

After finishing a town meeting, McCain embarks, washes his hands with germ-killer and assumes his swivel throne in the front section. Reporters cluster around, attaching microphones to his lapels, and sticking tape recorders and cameras in his face. In a flash McCain is off, wisecracking, talking seriously about his campaign and his life, engaging in badinage with aides, and teasing his good-natured spouse, who sits a couple of seats away, trying to talk to their daughter back home in Arizona about her lacrosse game on a cell phone. It all feels like a collegiate road trip, with running jokes, cuisine by Dunkin Donuts, and the odd unscheduled stop to shop for local handicrafts. Here's a sample of the dialogue:

--Asked about the recent spate of Bush endorsements, including Orrin Hatch, McCain says: "I want to say right now: Orrin Hatch is off my short-list for postmaster general." 

--Defending his liberal-sounding concern about income inequality: "We know in the inner cities and on the Indian reservations and other places they do not have the opportunity to receive the kind of education and training necessary to give them the ability to take advantage of this prosperity. It seems to me that all of us as Americans, whether Republican or Democrat or libertarian or vegetarian should be interested in addressing that situation."

--On how much coffee he drinks: "Seven to eight cups a day. But sometimes only three, four."

--In response to a question about whether his politics have evolved: "All of us should change and evolve over time. ... In 1983, I voted against the Martin Luther King Holiday. I ended up being one of those in 1998 who fought hard for recognition. I don't claim not to have evolved as a politician and in my philosophy and my views. I think it would be an incredible waste of time if I hadn't grown and matured in some of those areas."  

--Joking about his marriage: "Cindy and I are getting divorced. The grounds are, I found out she doesn't love me as much as I do."

Inevitably, reporters run out real questions and start asking McCain why he likes talking to them so much. "It's fun. It's intellectually stimulating, " he says. "Some of the last of the Trotskyites have been on this bus. It's hard to find them these days."