I Found A Tracker Hidden Under My Car After My Son-In-Law Worked On It. I Didn’t Confront Him. I Let It Ride North — And Waited For The Call.

said. I’d thanked him, thinking what a thoughtful man my daughter had chosen.

The drive to my first appointment should have taken twenty minutes, but traffic had other plans. Someone had decided Saturday morning was perfect for repaving half of downtown Portland, so I found myself crawling along at the speed of continental drift. At sixty-three, I’d continue reading …