“Can I take my doctor’s appointment folder out of the glove box?”

“Not under this order,” the driver said, snapping his clipboard shut.

I looked across the two lanes of Main Street at Julian.

He adjusted his silk tie with his right hand, turned on his heel, and walked into the diner without meeting my eyes.

The tow truck lifted my car’s front wheels three feet off the pavement, the hydraulic lift groaning under the weight.

I watched the red taillights disappear down the street toward the river bridge, leaving a dark patch of oil on the asphalt where my car had been.