As I approached the summit of Fireside Mountain, I spotted a car parked in the middle of the only spot I could pull into. At eighty-five feet long, my rig wouldn’t fit on either side of that piece of crap without sticking out onto the highway. I tapped lightly on the air horn, hoping the…
I hit the road, cruising north on I-95 through New Jersey, the cold January air whipping past the Escalade as I headed toward New York. Three days of meetings and property tours in Trenton had been productive, and I had just one last client to visit outside of Boston before I could head back to…
As I pulled over on the quiet country road, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. The bright red Ferrari, with its top down and my straight blonde hair blowing free in the slipstream, was a tempting target for a traffic cop. I had been driving for what felt like an eternity, and…