Podcasts about suv

Big luxury meets real-world testing as we put the fully redesigned 2025 Infiniti QX80 Autograph through its paces and ask the question that matters: does six-figure comfort justify its place among Escalade, Navigator, and Grand Wagoneer? We break down the Autograph's quilted-leather lounge, massaging seats in two rows, digital rearview mirror, and 14.3-inch infotainment, then pair it with hard numbers from the new twin‑turbo V6—450 hp, 516 lb‑ft, 8,500‑lb towing—and a calm, air‑suspended ride that makes interstate miles easy.From there, we switch gears to the six‑wheel, three‑axle world and separate sizzle from substance. Better weight distribution, extra traction, and added stability make sense for heavy loads and deep sand or mud, but the price in complexity, repair logistics, and fuel or range drag is real. If you've ever wondered whether 6x6 is practical or just a flex, this segment gives you the trade-offs you need.We also share two electric standouts. First, a sharp, long‑wheelbase performance EV with 615 hp that nails design and daily usability: a huge integrated screen, smart column shifter that frees console space, and confident acceleration. Then we move to Volvo's EX40 Twin Motor Ultra—clean styling, pixel headlights, and a plush, quiet ride—balanced by a touch‑heavy interface that turns simple tasks into multi-tap routines. We compare charging times, cost per mile, and where each lands against Tesla Model Y Performance, Mustang Mach‑E GT, Ioniq 5 XRT, EQB, Q4 e‑tron, and GV60.A quick stop at Cadillac Ranch reminds us why car culture still matters: specs are great, stories are better. If you're weighing a luxury SUV or hunting for an EV that fits real life, you'll leave with the numbers, context, and a clear sense of trade‑offs. Enjoy the ride, then share your pick with us—subscribe, leave a review, and tell a friend who's shopping for their next set of wheels.Be sure to subscribe for more In Wheel Time Car Talk!The Lupe' Tortilla RestaurantsLupe Tortilla in Katy, Texas Gulf Coast Auto ShieldPaint protection, tint, and more!Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.---- ----- Want more In Wheel Time car talk any time? In Wheel Time is now available on Audacy! Just go to Audacy.com/InWheelTime where ever you are.----- -----Be sure to subscribe on your favorite podcast provider for the next episode of In Wheel Time Podcast and check out our live multiplatform broadcast every Saturday, 10a - 12nCT simulcasting on Audacy, YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, Twitch and InWheelTime.com.In Wheel Time Podcast can be heard on you mobile device from providers such as:Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music Podcast, Spotify, SiriusXM Podcast, iHeartRadio podcast, TuneIn + Alexa, Podcast Addict, Castro, Castbox, YouTube Podcast and more on your mobile device.Follow InWheelTime.com for the latest updates!Twitter: https://twitter.com/InWheelTimeInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/inwheeltime/https://www.youtube.com/inwheeltimehttps://www.Facebook.com/InWheelTimeFor more information about In Wheel Time Podcast, email us at info@inwheeltime.com

A 46-year-old Alaska cardiologist charged with possessing child sex abuse material was found dead inside his burned Wasilla home just one day after his release on bond, as investigators continue to determine how the fire and his death occurred. A Christmas Day drive through the Sierra nearly ends in disaster when an SUV spins out on icy Highway 50 and hangs over a steep drop, until an Air Force staff sergeant rushes in and helps save the trapped couple. A quick-thinking Long Island seventh grader escaped through a window and called 911 after realizing a burglar had broken into his home, leading police to arrest the suspect within minutes. Drew Nelson reports.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Think Texas has no mountains? We open the map and prove otherwise with a deep dive into Big Bend's peaks, canyons, and night skies—and we brought the region's top insider, Robert Alvarez of Visit Big Bend, to guide the way. From the first “don't speed in small towns” lesson to the last stargazing tip, this journey is built for travelers who want to plan well and wander slow.www.VisitBigBend.comWe break down the real differences between Big Bend National Park and Big Bend Ranch State Park so you can match your trip to your style. The national park delivers paved access, the Chisos Basin, the Ross Maxwell Scenic Drive, Santa Elena Canyon, and family-friendly trailheads. The state park trades polish for solitude: high-clearance roads, rugged terrain, and some of the best mountain biking in Texas. Robert shares how to time your visit around the Chisos Basin renovations, why the Rio Grande can surprise you, and where to chase fossils, history, and birds—including the elusive Lucifer hummingbird in the Christmas Mountains.If logistics make or break your trips, you'll love the practical run of tips: top off your gas before the gate, download offline maps, lock your phone to Central Time, and choose your vehicle wisely. A sedan can reach the headliners, but a high-clearance SUV or guided Jeep tour unlocks Balanced Rock and backcountry gems. We talk safety without fearmongering—pack more water than you think, respect sun and distance, give wildlife space—and we make room for wonder. Sotol Vista, the Marathon star party, and dark-sky pullouts turn the Milky Way from a photo into a memory.Ready to design a trip you'll actually savor? Press play, then tell us your first move: sunrise in the Chisos, a river day along the canyon, or a night under the brightest sky in Texas. If you're enjoying the show, subscribe, share it with a friend, and leave a quick review—it helps more travelers find their Big Bend.Please support our show by shopping through Eagle Creek: https://alnk.to/gVNDI6N and/or feel free to donate to:http://paypal.me/TheROAMies And it means the world to us when you subscribe, rate and share our podcast. Alexa and RoryThe ROAMiesFollow us at:http://www.TheROAMies.com@The ROAMies: Facebook and Instagram YouTube and X.

A holiday drive through the Sierra nearly turns deadly when an SUV spins out on icy Highway 50 and dangles over a steep drop, until a heroic U.S. Air Force staff sergeant steps in. A South Florida homicide investigation takes a strange twist after a man accused of stabbing his pregnant wife to death is captured on video shouting that the Illuminati forced him to kill her. Drew Nelson reports.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Este podcast es "culpa" vuestra. Muchos me escribís frustrados porque, aunque no os gustan los SUV, sentís que el mercado no ofrece alternativas. Que estamos condenados a conducir coches altos, pesados y clónicos. Pero vengo a demostraros que eso es mentira. Vivimos una auténtica "pandemia" de SUV-itis. Representan más del 50% de las ventas impulsados por una falsa sensación de seguridad y un "postureo" aventurero (cuando la mayoría son tracción delantera). Pero si analizamos la ingeniería pura, el SUV pierde en todo: Peso: Son más pesados, lo que penaliza prestaciones y consumo. Centro de gravedad: Al ir más altos, tienen más inercias y balanceo. Para evitar que parezcan barcos, les ponen suspensiones duras e incómodas. Aerodinámica: Son ladrillos contra el viento. En un coche térmico gastas más combustible, pero en un eléctrico es dramático: pierdes autonomía solo por ir sentado más alto. Si eres de los nuestros y valoras la eficiencia y la diversión, aquí tienes el análisis de las 4 ALTERNATIVAS REALES al SUV: 1. Las Rancheras (La Resistencia): El acto de rebeldía definitivo. Ya sea un Skoda Octavia Combi por espacio/precio o un Audi RS6 por prestaciones, la ranchera ofrece la misma dinámica de conducción exquisita que una berlina, pero con un maletero más grande y aprovechable que el de muchos SUV. Es el coche inteligente. 2. Las Berlinas (El Placer Olvidado): La gran víctima de la moda. Dinámicamente es el formato perfecto: rígido y aerodinámico. Modelos como el Alfa Romeo Giulia o el BMW Serie 3 demuestran que se puede tener un coche práctico sin renunciar al alma. Además, en la era eléctrica, berlinas como el Hyundai Ioniq 6 o el Tesla Model 3 son reyes de la eficiencia gracias a su baja resistencia al aire. 3. Monovolúmenes y Furgonetas (La Verdad Incómoda): Si tu argumento para comprar un SUV es "tengo 3 niños", necesitas un monovolumen o una furgoneta de pasajeros (VW Multivan, Clase V). Suelo plano, puertas correderas y asientos reales. Un SUV de 7 plazas es un compromiso; una furgoneta es honestidad espacial pura. 4. Los Compactos Deportivos (El Origen): Para parejas o familias pequeñas, el "Hot Hatch" (GTI, Cupra León, Focus ST) sigue siendo imbatible. Ofrecen practicidad diaria y, cuando llegan las curvas, una conexión con el asfalto y una agilidad que un SUV de dos toneladas jamás podrá igualar. Conclusión: El SUV ha ganado la batalla del marketing, pero ha perdido la de la ingeniería. No tienes que conducir un clon. Elige la aerodinámica sobre la altura, la agilidad sobre el peso y la personalidad sobre la moda.

We continue our 2025 End Of Year look...Looking for clarity on your next daily driver? We put two very different paths under the microscope: Volvo's 2025 EX40 Twin Motor Ultra with its tight, tech-forward approach to electrification, and Chevrolet's 2026 Tahoe Premier 4WD with big V8 torque, real towing, and road-trip comfort. The contrast reveals what you truly trade—time at chargers for quiet torque, touchscreen taps for minimal cabin clutter, and fuel costs for full-size capability.We start with the EX40's foundations in the XC40 platform and talk through what carries over and what improves. Pixel headlight tech, a 12.3-inch driver display, and a nine-inch center screen give the EV a modern face, but burying basic functions in software adds friction—like needing four taps to power down. We share cost-per-mile numbers from a 270-mile run, why a slightly faster charge still matters, and how the twin-motor setup's 402-hp equivalent translates to daily confidence. Safety pedigree remains a Volvo hallmark, but we ask the hard question: does the interface help or get in the way?Then we climb into the Tahoe Premier. A 6.2-liter V8 paired with a 10-speed transmission delivers 420 horsepower, 460 pound-feet, and up to about 8,200 pounds of towing, backed by Magnetic Ride Control and a surprisingly maneuverable feel for its size. Inside, the horizontal 17-inch infotainment display and 15-inch head-up display keep vital info easy to parse, while optional rear screens keep passengers entertained. We compare it directly with Ford Expedition, Toyota Sequoia hybrid, Nissan Armada, and GMC Yukon, and weigh where the Tahoe earns its price: space, visibility, and hardware that just works.Between test drives, we take a joyride through 1970s custom van culture—shag carpet, side pipes, and airbrushed fantasy—and swap stories on the “five worst cars,” from Pinto to Aztek, separating legend from reality. By the end, you'll know whether you're better off with an EV that prioritizes safety and sleek software or a full-size SUV that delivers straightforward strength and family-ready comfort.If you enjoyed this review mashup and the car-culture detour, follow, share with a friend, and leave a rating. Tell us: are you team EX40 or team TahoeBe sure to subscribe for more In Wheel Time Car Talk!The Lupe' Tortilla RestaurantsLupe Tortilla in Katy, Texas Gulf Coast Auto ShieldPaint protection, tint, and more!Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.---- ----- Want more In Wheel Time car talk any time? In Wheel Time is now available on Audacy! Just go to Audacy.com/InWheelTime where ever you are.----- -----Be sure to subscribe on your favorite podcast provider for the next episode of In Wheel Time Podcast and check out our live multiplatform broadcast every Saturday, 10a - 12nCT simulcasting on Audacy, YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, Twitch and InWheelTime.com.In Wheel Time Podcast can be heard on you mobile device from providers such as:Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music Podcast, Spotify, SiriusXM Podcast, iHeartRadio podcast, TuneIn + Alexa, Podcast Addict, Castro, Castbox, YouTube Podcast and more on your mobile device.Follow InWheelTime.com for the latest updates!Twitter: https://twitter.com/InWheelTimeInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/inwheeltime/https://www.youtube.com/inwheeltimehttps://www.Facebook.com/InWheelTimeFor more information about In Wheel Time Podcast, email us at info@inwheeltime.com

This week on America on the Road, co-host Chris Teague joins host Jack Nerad for a deep dive into the latest automotive news, two insightful road tests, and a special interview with veteran journalist Gary Witzenburg. Chris reviews the premium 2026 Toyota 4Runner Limited, highlighting its refined on-road manners and off-road prowess, while Jack takes the wheel of the sporty 2025 Subaru Impreza RS hatchback, praising its engaging drive and all-weather capability. Jack also chats with Gary Witzenburg, former North American Car of the Year Jury president and Motor Trend alum, about his upcoming book of automotive reminiscences.

27 Dec 2025. BYD's upmarket SUV brand Denza is soon to launch in the UAE, and Damien gets to test drive the D5, with BYD Executive Vice President Stella Li riding shotgun to tell him more.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

ALSO: Overnight shootings on Indy's near east side leave 1 dead and 2 injured, woman fatally struck by SUV in hit and run crash, and Kountry Kitchen's 17th annual Christmas Giveback feeds thousands of families.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Darrell Brooks is accused of killing six people and injuring dozens more when he drove an SUV through the Waukesha Christmas Parade in 2021. While his alleged motive, if any, remains unknown, a criminal complaint explains that the mayhem immediately followed a domestic incident in what prosecutors may call an anger-fueled rampage. A town tragedy with a defendant representing himself and a judge caught in the middle. Court TV's Ted Rowlands goes from the crime scene to the courtroom in the Christmas Parade Rampage Trial of Darrell Brooks.For more information on the case, Click Here. (https://www.courttv.com/tag/darrell-brooks/)Watch 24/7 Court TV LIVE Stream Today https://www.courttv.com/Join the Investigation Newsletter https://www.courttv.com/email/Court TV Podcast https://www.courttv.com/podcast/FOLLOW THE CASE:Facebook https://www.facebook.com/courttvTwitter/X https://twitter.com/CourtTVInstagram https://www.instagram.com/courttvnetwork/TikTok https://www.tiktok.com/@courttvliveYouTube https://www.youtube.com/c/COURTTVWATCH +140 FREE TRIALS IN THE COURT TV ARCHIVEhttps://www.courttv.com/trials/HOW TO FIND COURT TVhttps://www.courttv.com/where-to-watch/ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

A级轿车哪些车型比较推荐？20万左右的轿车有哪些值得买？不同价位的SUV分别要怎么选择？

Big power, big space, and even bigger holiday plans. We put the all-new 2025 Ford Expedition Max under the microscope, from its streamlined grille and clever two-piece tailgate to a fully revamped interior with twin screens and a sliding center console that actually changes daily usability. With 400 horsepower, 480 lb-ft of torque, and up to 9,000 pounds of towing, the Max Platinum proves it can haul, cruise, and carry with confidence. We share true-to-life fuel economy, where it shines on ride quality, and why a hybrid option could be the smartest next step. Plus, we stack it against Suburban, Yukon XL, Sequoia, and Armada to help you decide what belongs in your driveway.Then we hit the map with road trips that wrap driving fun in holiday magic. Start in Chicago and glide to Frankenmuth's Little Bavaria charm and Bronner's Christmas Wonderland. Chase lights and live music across the Texas Hill Country, from Grapevine to Fredericksburg to San Antonio's River Walk. Crave snow? Cross the Cascades to Leavenworth, Washington, for carolers, nutcrackers, and alpine energy. Prefer a slower pace? Wander Asheville and the Blue Ridge Parkway to see the Biltmore Estate sparkle, or make a quick East Coast run from Philadelphia's Christmas Village to New York City's iconic tree and window displays.We close with a no-nonsense guide to RV laws that keep your holiday rolling instead of ruined. Learn why overweight rigs are dangerous and costly, where parking gets you ticketed, how propane rules shift by state, why belts matter for every passenger, and what boondocking boundaries you must respect. Whether you're picking a full-size SUV or plotting a festive escape, you'll leave with practical insight, smart safety tips, and a shortlist of destinations worth the drive. If you enjoyed the ride, follow the show, share it with a road trip friend, and drop a review telling us where you're heading next.Be sure to subscribe for more In Wheel Time Car Talk!The Lupe' Tortilla RestaurantsLupe Tortilla in Katy, Texas Gulf Coast Auto ShieldPaint protection, tint, and more!Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.---- ----- Want more In Wheel Time car talk any time? In Wheel Time is now available on Audacy! Just go to Audacy.com/InWheelTime where ever you are.----- -----Be sure to subscribe on your favorite podcast provider for the next episode of In Wheel Time Podcast and check out our live multiplatform broadcast every Saturday, 10a - 12nCT simulcasting on Audacy, YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, Twitch and InWheelTime.com.In Wheel Time Podcast can be heard on you mobile device from providers such as:Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music Podcast, Spotify, SiriusXM Podcast, iHeartRadio podcast, TuneIn + Alexa, Podcast Addict, Castro, Castbox, YouTube Podcast and more on your mobile device.Follow InWheelTime.com for the latest updates!Twitter: https://twitter.com/InWheelTimeInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/inwheeltime/https://www.youtube.com/inwheeltimehttps://www.Facebook.com/InWheelTimeFor more information about In Wheel Time Podcast, email us at info@inwheeltime.com

It's a car-packed episode this week with Matt Farah! Matt talks driving the new Ferrari 12Cilindri, Jonny shares his experience with the Ferrari Amalfi, and the crew breaks down the simple perfection of Matt's 2005 NSX. ______________________________________________ Check out Matt's 2005 NSX on Cars & Bids: https://carsandbids.com/auctions/30XpvWMG/2005-acura-nsx-t

November 8, 2025, a small SUV drives up to the Carnival cruise ship docked at Port Miami. The thick letters on the side of the car read: MIAMI DADE COUNTY MEDICAL EXAMINER  FBI agents are seen bringing what appears to be a cadaver stretcher off the ship.  Just 24 hours before docking, in a cabin where three step-siblings were rooming together, a crew member finds a dead body.  An 18 year old girl named Anna Kepner, hidden underneath a mattress amongst blankets and life jackets.  The youngest sibling is seemingly ruled out and the most likely person of interest appears to be her 16 year old step brother...Whom Anna's father and stepmother seem to be defensively ‘protective' of.   This is the ongoing case of Anna Kepner's murder.   Full show notes available at RottenMangoPodcast.com Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

On this episode of Bulture podcast:Nicki Minaj made an appearance at Turning Point USA's AmericaFest, walking hand in hand with Erika Kirk Gunna hosted his 5K “Wunna Run club in LA” Boyfriend Calls Out Girlfriend for Refusing to Work Out with Him—But She Suddenly Runs with Gunna. Is He Overreacting?Is OutKast really better than the Migos?21 Savage reunites Offset and Quavo on FaceTime and says 'album is OTW' Jake Paul has broken jaw from fight with Anthony Joshua, I hate how people are in the comment section saying “he got the bag tho”-The ref and broadcaster for the Jake Paul Anthony Joshua fight kept it too real!A lot of short people were showing up to the Tall People Meetup in DC last night…….like damn ya'll can't let people have nothing???Dave Chappelle dropped a surprise special on Netflix Friday!!Do people who do last minute Christmas shopping give good gifts?Ice Spice faces backlash for alleged racy outfit at kids' SpongeBob premierePooh Shiesty , G Herbo, Young Thug & YFN Lucci Have come out and said ‘F the streets,Boosie says that if rappers are going to say ‘F the streets', they need to stop rapping about them.President Trump declares Christmas Eve and December 26 as federal holidaysAnother 40+ point performance from Audi Crooks!! She's posted 148 points over the last 4 gamesThe Panthers are first in the NFC South for the first time since Cam Newton's MVP seasonGood pillows help you sleep way better!!A single mother says she didn't like the fact that her parents were happily married with a stable home growing up. She wished she had grown up in the projects instead.End of an Era: Hot 97 Seemingly Replaces ‘Ebro in The Morning' w/ All-New Host LineupA big congrats to our Pam Oliver for being inducted into the Sports Broadcasting Hall of Fame The Eagles win over the Commanders, and the Cowboys have officially been eliminated from playoff contention.Man, questions how Kai Cenat can be depressed with all the money from his recent streamsWoman wants to know if Boosie's ‘Put Your Lips on Live for $1,000' offer is still on because she really needs some moneyRadio personality Charlamagne Tha God recently signed a $200 million deal with iHeartMedia. Now he has ambitious plans to turn his Black Effect network into the BET of podcasting.The Instagram for TV app rolled out Tuesday on Amazon Fire TV devices in the US, offering a personalized feed of short Reels!Young Thug and his girlfriend, Mariah the Scientist, are officially getting married after he surprisingly proposed to her on stageThe New York Knicks Have Won Their First Trophy Since 1973. KAT, Brunson and the Knicks storm into Vegas and win the 2025 NBA Cup Championship.Class is back in session! Kadeem Hardison, Jasmine Guy, Cree Summer, and Darryl M. Bell are returning for an A Different World sequel series, coming to Netflix!Young woman sparks debate about lack of positive black representation on modern TVThe WNBPA announced that players voted to authorize its executive committee to call a strike "when necessary," as a response to the current state of CBA negotiations with the league, 98% of the players voted yes, 93% participated in the vote, per the union.Houston Rockets ownership is in substantive talks with the Connecticut Sun over the potential purchase and relocation of the WNBA franchiseHall of Famer Kevin Garnett is reuniting with the Minnesota Timberwolves and the Lynx in a new, all-encompassing role involving business, community efforts and content development, sources told ESPN. His long-awaited No. 21 Wolves jersey retirement will also happen in Minnesota.Lakers rookie Adou Thiero had his SUV stolen over the weekend, but LAPD later recovered the vehicle and arrested two men — one of them being Samson Nacua, the brother of LA Rams standout Puka Nacua

Stories in this episode: Highway Hunting Grounds | VorUKR (0:38) Followed All Over Town | Monica (6:32) Highway Encounter With a Serial Killer | KidChawlzRock (13:35) Rural Highway Creeper | Anonymous (22:34) Followed By a Pickup Truck in Broad Daylight | electrapng (26:27) Close Encounter with a Serial Killer at a Highway Rest Stop | Avulpesvulpes (30:44) Highway to Hell | Chris (36:41) Creepy White Van on Isolated Highway | Jose (44:06) The SUV on the Rural Highway | SylviaWrath69 (48:58) The Angry Truck Drivers | M (54:32) The Grey Truck | Mama Craft (1:03:28) Highway Stalker | Anonymous (1:09:53) Almost Attacked While Driving to the Hospital | Carly (1:13:52) The Man That Tried To Follow Me Home | Holly (1:22:46) Followed at Night by the Black Car Without Headlights | neuneu0666 (1:29:41) Jeepers Creepers Truck | Savannah (1:35:26) Followed on a Dark Country Road | natural-edged (1:38:52) Due to periodic changes in ad placement, time stamps are estimates and are not always accurate. Want Bonus Weekly Stories? Hate Ads? Join our Patreon for only $5 a month for over 100 hours of bonus content, and it's all ad-free! Send your stories to letsnotmeetstories@gmail.com.    Right now, Nutrafol is offering our listeners $10 off your first month's subscription plus free shipping when you go to Nutrafol.com and use promo code MEET. Not all fish are the same! Get seafood you can trust. Go to wildalaskan.com/MEET for $35 off your first box of premium, wild-caught seafood. Join the Discord:https://discord.gg/84WXQud4gE Follow: - Twitch - https://twitch.tv/crypticcounty - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com/ - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online.   

什麼叫國王？ 想幹嘛就幹嘛，才是君王奧義？？ 花最多的錢，過最爽的日子！ 最大顆的寶石，最帥氣的馬兒， 最任性的狗狗，最美貌的男寵。 傲嬌國王的暢享人生由全民買單～ 美的成本、追愛的成本， 英國為這個『別人家的國王』付出多大代價？ 比情婦更『躺贏』的寵兒， 關上房門，究竟在幹嘛？ 【RangeRover　定義無聲奢華】 線上賞車

First the show starts off with Benjamin's review of the 2025 Jeep Cherokee S, an electric crossover that's arrived a bit late, but with lots of power. Hear Benjamin's thoughts on Jeep's first electric car in North America and what's going right and wrong with this new EV. Then Sami reviews the 2026 Hyundai Tucson Hybrid, which isn't a huge change from the previous year, but packs an interesting Baby Mode, which catches the guys attention for a whole segment of the podcast. Thanks for listening everyone!

Elf on a Shelf: Part 1 Her stalker wasn't who she thought he was; Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Honey smiled at the long line of children waiting to see Santa, flipping her phone from Google Translate back to see the information of the next little girl in line, who was looking up at her somberly with large liquid brown eyes. In her small face was a familiar mixture of fear and hope. Wonder; it was wonder in her eyes, Honey thought. Unlike the tired and jaded adults, dutifully shifting their weight from foot to foot, holding overstuffed shopping bags and all the coats of their kids as they distracted themselves on their phones, the children got more and more excited as they drew near the man in the furry red suit with white trim. Honey loved working with the children; because like them, she sometimes could still see the magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman shift uncomfortably in the painted plywood throne made for him to sit with the children and discuss their good behavior and of the wishes that they hoped would come true. Even at age 62, Norman still saw the magic with his merry bright blue eyes, but it faded when his prostate pained him. When the photographer got the shot the parent wanted, Honey walked to where most of the long line could see her as Norman flashed her a look of worshipful gratitude. The adults' faces immediately fell, knowing what was coming. "I'm afraid Santa needs to take a quick break because apparently the reindeer have begun arguing again!" Norman put his gloved hands up to his real beard, pulled a comically dismayed face, jumped up from his throne, and ran off toward the restrooms. Honey shook her head mournfully and continued, "The reindeer were all practicing their Christmas carols when Comet and Cupid couldn't decide how many times Santa checks his list in Santa Claus is Coming to Town! Does anyone here remember how it goes?" she asked, scanning the line for people game enough to help. Honey scampered back and forth along the line trying to choose among the eager volunteers, her white-trimmed, pink fur skirt flaring out around her thighs, her long legs clad in sparkly curly-toed ruby slippers and candy cane swirl stockings catching the eyes of several fathers. Suddenly, she gasped listening carefully to her headset, "Nina?" she called out. "Comet and Cupid say they will only stop arguing if 'Nina' gives the answer. Is there a 'Nina' here today? Nina?" Honey looked around at the crowd carefully until the little girl with the big brown eyes, who had been quietly waiting 57 minutes in line, gathered the courage to raise her hand. "Oh! Are you Nina?" she asked, running over and crouching down near the girl. "We just adopted her; she only speaks Portuguese," the weary woman holding her hand said quietly. Honey gasped and smiled widely, "Voc fala portugu s Nina? Maravilhosa!" she said, watching the little girl's eyes brighten excitedly. "Voc pode me dizer quantas vezes o Papai Noel verifica sua lista?" she asked, holding her microphone out to the little girl. "Duas vezes!" Nina said confidently into the mic. Honey listened carefully to her headset, concentrating, "'Duas vezes' it is! They've stopped arguing!" she announced. "But now, they want us all to sing the song in Portuguese! Nina, voc vai me ajudar a ensin -los a m sica?" she asked. Nina nodded and slowly she and Honey taught the familiar song to the crowd in a new language. As always, a hush came on the crowd when Honey began to sing. Heads raised up from forgotten phones. Vague smiles drifted onto the turning heads of passers-by in the mall as they paused in their frenetic search for gifts. It wasn't so much that Honey's voice was beautiful, though it certainly was. It was more that when Honey sang, it seemed to make the things that didn't really matter melt away. To those that believed in such things, Honey's voice was magic. When she sang, people held their breath and didn't even miss the air. Honey closed her eyes as she sang next to Nina. It was a newly acquired habit. Though she had been taught to let her eyes slowly drift over the audience, letting them make a connection with each person as she sang, she didn't do that anymore. She knew he was out there. She felt his presence frequently as she worked, but it was only when she sang that he came out into the open. She couldn't hold her voice steady when she saw him watching her, so she closed her eyes and let the magic continue for the crowd. When the song ended, Honey opened her eyes as the crowd cheered, finding his powerful form immediately as if she had been commanded to look at him. Zach. He had changed a lot in the year since he brought his sister's children through the long Santa line, drawing her almost too-large dark blue eyes to him then, as easily as he did now. After bringing his nieces and nephews through the line, he'd gone home and brought all his neighbors' kids to see Santa in five more trips, watching her the entire time. He looked at her as if he'd never seen anything like her in the world, like he couldn't believe she was real. She had loved feeling his eyes on her then, hearing his voice. She had wanted to climb up in his lap, feel his large arms curled around her, whisper to him about how good she had been that year, and of how much she hoped he would make her wishes come true. Of course, all that was before he'd told her he wanted to kill her. Zach's face looked leaner now, though his body seemed even larger, if such a thing was possible. His brooding, deep-set eyes were not merry, as they had been when children climbed his tree-like body in her line last year. They weren't nervously soft and adoring of every part of her, as they had been at their candle-lit dinner. His eyes weren't rageful or insane as you might expect from someone visiting their object of murderous hate, but rather; they were tortured, trapped. Pain and quiet desperation had taken up restless residence in the windows to his soul. Honey knew she shouldn't look at him so much, but she just wished she could understand what she had done wrong. Once the line of children and parents had cleared, it was long past the official closing time. Honey cleaned up the display and prepared it for the next day while Norman took one last lingering trip to the restroom. Her phone showed numerous messages from work friends from her other job asking where she was. The firm had planned a Christmas party at Gatsby's, a gorgeous club worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's glamorous hero. It was also the place where Zach had taken her on their first and last date. The Gatsby's waiter had looked stunned and confused when she shakily ordered herself an "angel shot," the code-phrase used to quietly ask bartenders or wait staff for help when you felt threatened, but after his initial shock, the waiter immediately escorted her secretly to a taxi waiting outside before Zach returned to the table. Gatsby's had saved her life; but she didn't want to go back there. After avoiding call after call from Zach, she finally answered and politely asked him never to call her again. To her surprise, he didn't. He never spoke to her again. Unless she sang, she never even saw him, but she felt his presence almost everywhere. It felt like she was haunted by him; haunted by something wonderful and magical that, inexplicably, went horribly wrong. Her phone buzzed again, the display showing that the firm's senior partner wanted to FaceTime her. Steeling herself, she answered. "Honey Lane where in the hell; oh my god lookit you!" Aaron Timberman held the phone high above his head with his long ex-basketball-player arms and Honey saw a crowd of her co-workers crowd into the picture behind him. "Um, hi sir. Sorry I'm late to;" "You're an elf!" "Um, yeah. It's a volunteer thing;" "Wait, wait, wait; you have the shoes? You know, with the; toes?" he slurred, motioning his finger in a spiral motion. Honey bit her lips and tilted the camera down her body, showing her entire costume, tilting her foot to show off the curled toe. "I'm sorry it got late tonight, but I'll be there as soon as I can get home and get changed;" Timberman looked around at the crowd surrounding him, "Guys, do we wanna see Honey Lane here at the party in some boring old Anne Klein shit, or do we want the elf?" he yelled, pointing at the screen. Behind him, almost a dozen of her co-workers began chanting "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf!" "Get yer ass over here, Elf," Timberman ordered, poking at his screen several times before effectively ending the call. A few minutes later, Norman finally came back from the restroom and gave Honey a ride over to Gatsby's in his red SUV bedecked with a bumper sticker that read, "My other car's a SLEIGH!" Honey hopped out after getting bits of advice from Norman that would have been appropriate several decades ago. With flaming cheeks, she brushed the furry white pompom from her hat out of her face and told the smirking ma tre d which party she wanted, sighing when he grinned widely and escorted her through the middle of the main dining area, much to her horror. When the doors to the party room opened and she was greeted by another round of "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf," she didn't feel much better. She was starving, so she headed over to the buffet and began loading up a plate with delicious-looking things on ice in shot glasses, impaled on sticks, or immersed in flames. She just spied a quiet table in a dark corner and was winding her way toward it to it to scarf down her only food since breakfast before she could be drawn into a drunken debate. That was the plan, anyway. "Hunnybaby! Lookit you! C'mon we gotta dance!" Lee James slurred to her fur-trimmed tits. With a sigh, she smiled and laid her plate down on a nearby table, promising to herself that she would eat right after enduring a dance with the favored junior partner. Unfortunately, after Lee angled her awkwardly around the dance floor, they'd drawn so much attention that everyone wanted to get pics of themselves toasting and dancing with the Christmas elf. At some point, she found herself in Timberman's arms with a glass of champagne in her hand. "Um; what?" she said, almost asking herself how she had gotten there. "I said you look lovely, tonight, Honey. Much better than in a shawl and sheath dress," he said, quickly twirling her around as they reached the edge of the dance floor. "Twirling makes my skirt go up; I'm dizzy," she murmured. A familiar dark figure flashed in the background and disappeared as Timberman turned her again. She looked around, trying to find the figure again, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Why was he there? Had she been singing again? "Well, I'll make sure nobody twirls you, my dear," he said, twirling her and smiling as her skirt flew up her long candy-cane striped legs. "The wives wouldn't like it." "I like your wife's dress Mr. Timberman; looks warm. It covers her ass when she sits, too," she slurred, frowning in confusion at the dark red drink in her hand now. Zach was frowning, and then he just looked blurry again as she swirled around. Maybe swirling made it harder for him to kill her. Why did he want to kill her? It just wasn't fair. Timberman leaned down and dipped her, "I'll make sure to give her your compliments. You know, if you like what wives wear, you should consider getting married. Lee is quite taken with you, you know," he said, stroking his hand against the soft pink velvet of her dress. Honey found herself drifting away and wandering inside her head again, thinking about Lee; he was handsome in an overly-polished way, said funny things, but they always sounded a little mean, like he wanted to be the only one laughing; and he also took her away from the food plate that just floated by on a table. It was still full. She should have eaten that food. What time was it? "He likes my boobs; and he doesn't want to kill me," she agreed eventually, surprised to find that Timberman was gone and she was dancing with Lee James again. "Well, I can't blame him for that; they're fucking perfect; just like everything else. I'm gonna come on them after you suck me off; he murmured, pulling her closer against him. "Let me take you home, Honey; penthouse view of the city; "Umm; no, that's not home; I live in the; railroad place; with the trains?" Honey explained, pointing in what she thought was the direction of the Lowertown Commons. Why did every guy think she lived with them tonight? "Sounds charming, Eliza Doolittle; you should trade up. You don't know how much I'd love twist your arms back and fuck this ass wide open over my balcony tonight," he said, reaching his hand under her skirt and greedily squeezing her bottom. "You'd like that, wouldn't you Honey? I can tell; Lee whispered, his cologne invading her head and making her queasy. "I feel sick; Honey whimpered and staggered away, trying to find the quiet table where the food was that would make her less drunk. The dance floor was confusing, though, always turning around and thumping and flashing. She leaned against a pillar until she got a better sense of where she was. She liked the pillar. It was big and strong; and it stroked her hair. "Honey; wake up, Honey. Open your mouth. You need to take these," the vaguely familiar voice said, cutting through the sleep that had been blocking out some of the pain she felt everywhere. She obediently opened her mouth and the hand put two caplets on her tongue. A water bottle squirted a little cool liquid into her mouth until she moaned and sucked harder, desperate for more. "Not too much. Wait until you can hold that down. I'll give you more in a bit. You don't want that IV back, do you?" "Nuh" Honey groaned. She hated needles. Sure, just about every part of her body hurt more than a needle did, right now, but somehow needle pain felt personal. Like with Zach. He didn't seem like someone who went around wanting to choke everybody; just her. She was nobody special; just a simple girl who kept lawyers organized and tried to be nice. Then, someone wonderful like Zach thought she needed to die. That hurt. Something about her made him go from being tender and intensely loving to someone who; it just didn't make sense. What did she do? Mercifully, sleep faded the pain and clouded her thoughts. Voices below her intruded into a wonderful dream where she was bouncing on clouds. Though not in the same room, the voices seemed strangely clear. "I can't; Terry, she cries when I do that," the pills voice said, making her eyes fly open. She knew that voice. She hadn't heard it for a year, but she would never forget it. Her body reacted with a confused mix of emotions, her cheeks flushing and adrenaline searing a path all through her at the same time. "That's because it hurts her. You know what hurts more? Bedsores. Man up. Use the pillows to prop her weight against the parts that aren't hurt on whichever side. It's either this, or she goes back to the hospital, and I have it on good authority you won't be allowed to visit after what happened." "She was screaming; Zach gritted. "Yeah, well they were putting her shoulder back in. People scream. That still doesn't excuse what you did. Since when did you become such a pussy about pain?" Terry asked. "since her." "oh my god." "Shut up," Zach grunted. "Oh my god; "Yeah, that's not shutting up." "The great Z-dog has been taken down;" "Shut up, maggot, it's not like that. I'm just taking care of h;" "By a little bitty pink Christmas elf; Terry laughed. There was a scuffling sound and then a loud whoomp and a forceful exhalation of air. "So, I turn her every few hours until she can do it for herself?" Zach asked, casually. "Yes, sir," Terry choked. "Anything else?" "Clear liquids until she can hold stuff down. Talk to her. Ask her questions. If she seems disoriented or part of her face goes slack, she goes back to the hospital. Don't fuck around." "Got it. Are you squared away, or do we need to discuss this further?" "Squared away, sir," Terry choked, then gasped in relief, panting faintly. "Jesus Christ, you haven't lost your touch. We on for the hump tomorrow at 0 500?" "No. I'm gonna stick close here until she's;" "Got it. Hey, maybe they have those Baby Bjorn things in elf-size. Then, you could just strap her onto your ba; ow! ow! ow, ow, ow!" "You weren't particularly attached to the rest of that sentence, were you, maggot?" Zach growled. "Sir, no sir; Terry squeaked. "I didn't think so. You'll be back here Wednesday," Zach stated, more as an order than a question. "Yeah, if you want me to. Honestly, right now she just needs rest and TLC more than a medic. That stands for 'tender loving care' by the way, not;" "You were just going," Zach said, as the voices moved to another end of the room below her. "Hey, you wanna know what makes an elf's toes curl up like tha;" Terry asked, his question cut off by the slamming of the door. Honey listened, trembling and terrified as Zach paced the floor below her. Though his voice hadn't changed, he sounded nothing like the man that had wooed her so tenderly a year ago. He sounded dangerous, brutal even. He definitely sounded like the kind of person that went around wanting to choke everyone, she thought, strangely relieved that her heartbreak felt a little less personal. How could she have been so wrong in her impression of him? She looked around the room, understanding now how the voices had reached her so easily. She was in an open industrial loft bedroom that opened onto the main floor below. Looking around, she realized she must be in Zach's huge bed, though if the crisply made side next to her was any indication, he hadn't been sleeping in it with her. Looking down her body, she gasped quietly. Her left arm was in a sling strapped to her chest, her legs were covered in bruises, and the right leg that was being stabbed with an invisible knife right now, was wrapped up in an air cast boot. What had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was feeling sick as she tried to get away from Lee's groping hands on the dance floor. After that; nothing. How did she get here? A beeping noise sounded below and Zach walked across the room to what sounded like a kitchen. The sound of water being poured into a cup, the ringing of a spoon stirring it, a pill bottle being opened. Honey shivered, realizing he was probably coming up to her, soon. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, feigning sleep. Steps ascending to the loft bedroom. Ankle stabbing, stab, stab, stab, stab with every panicked heartbeat. A tray went down on the nightstand next to her. A chair across the room was lifted and set down by the bed. Honey told herself to breathe slowly, willing the tears welling behind her lids not to leak out of her eyes. He would leave her alone if she was sleeping, wouldn't he? "You're not sleeping," Zach's voice stated, quietly, and her stomach clenched in fear. "You've been waking up for these pills every four hours like a junkie. I know you don't want to talk to me, Honey, but until you're squared away, you're gonna have to. So, cut the crap, open your eyes, and let's get this done." Honey opened her eyes to see his grim face looking down at her. With one blink, large tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and Zach's jaw set angrily. Sitting down in the chair, he put his elbows on his knees and leaned his massive shoulders forward, looking at her. His hands looked like they could crush rocks as he gripped them together. "Let's get some things straight. I don't know what you think you know about me, but acting like I'm some kind of psycho is pretty shitty. You want nothing of me, that's fine, but you're hurt because you screamed and flung yourself down some stairs rather than let me help you to an Uber. You're staying here until you're well, because some shithead at that party gave you enough roofies to be in a coma for almost 3 days and I'm not dragging my ass to that rat trap of yours in the Commons every day to make sure they don't come back while you're weak. Are we clear?" he asked. Honey swallowed and nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck and head. That just seemed to make Zach angrier. "While you are here, you will do as you're told. You will eat what you get, and you will not complain. You see these, here?" he said, holding up the magic caplets that made everything better. "These are the last ones you're getting. I'm switching you to ibuprofen and Tylenol because, unchecked, this Sackler shit will fuck you up for good and that's not happening on my watch. Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes," Honey whispered. At the sound of her voice, Zach's mouth twitched, but at least he didn't look as angry as when she'd nodded and winced. "You will follow your doctor's orders to the last goddamn word. You will rest. You will do your therapy. You will let me help you and you will ask me for what you need because I am not a fucking mind reader. And so help me, if you do anything stupid like get out of that bed without me here to help you, or push yourself away from me like you did at Gatsby's, or any other drama shit that hurts even one hair on that head again, I will personally make you regret you were ever born." "Yes, Zach," Honey breathed, confused. Two more tears rolled down her cheeks. Without thinking, she leaned over to wipe them off on her shoulder and cried out in pain. Zach squeezed his clenched hands together and several of his knuckles cracked. "You don't use my name. You don't get to use my name. You're not getting under my skin again, you hear me?" Zach growled, using his rough knuckle to wipe her tears. "Orders a fucking angel shot in my own fucking club; fuck you. I don't have a name, you don't have a name. You're nothing to me. Understand?" "Yes, sir," she whispered. Honey leaned forward and took the last spoonful of broth into her mouth and swallowed, looking longingly at the noodles at the bottom of the cup. Zach caught a drop of broth at the bottom of her lower lip with the spoon and returned it to her mouth. "No," he said, seeing where her eyes lingered. "I can do it," she pleaded. "Please; I haven't had anything solid since; how long has it been?" "I said, no. You throw up on another pair of my skivvies and I'll be doing laundry twice a week," Zach said, dabbing her mouth with a paper towel. "Why do I have to wear your boxer briefs anyway? They feel weird. They have this hole-flap thing; and there are some places that aren't supposed to feel a breeze," Honey said, lifting the blanket to look down at his underwear loosely covering her hips. "Are you complaining?" he asked quietly. Honey's eyes darted quickly to his face, "No sir," she murmured, looking down at her lap. "I just thought if I had some of my things here, you wouldn't have to do the laundry so much." "I'll worry about what I have to do, Honey," he said, unthinkingly using her name. Startled, she looked up to see his eyes wandering over her, his massive t-shirt sleeves going down past her elbows. She felt ridiculous and disheveled, but something about the way he looked at her made her hold her breath. Then, without another word, he slurped the noodles out of the cup and took the tray downstairs. After that, the two settled into a quiet routine of him feeding her, giving her medicine, and watching her sleep most of the day. She would sometimes awaken to the soft repetitive sounds of him running on a treadmill, or the clinking of him lifting weights downstairs where she couldn't see him. Then, he would go to the bathroom and shower. After his shower, he came upstairs again in his towel and took some clothes from his dresser before going back downstairs to change. Honey found herself looking forward to those few seconds each day, watching his droplet-covered torso twist as he leaned over his dresser. He frowned as he flipped through his carefully folded underwear. "You wearing the grey ones?" he asked, not looking at her. Honey peeked under the covers, "Um, yes sir," she replied. "I'm supposed to wear the grey ones today," he grumbled to himself. Honey didn't say anything. Zach was the one who picked out which underwear she wore today. He was the one who looked away while he painstakingly slipped the old ones off her hips and pulled the new ones over her boot and up her legs until her bottom was covered again. There was nothing about her life that wasn't chosen and executed by him. If he wasn't happy about the color of his underwear, that was his fault. Still, Zach kept rummaging around in his underwear drawer as if another crisply folded grey pair would somehow magically appear. Finally, rather than offend him by laughing, Honey spoke, "Um; you know, if they're clean, I could wear the pair I had on when I went to the hospital and you could have these. It would get you back on schedule; Zach lifted his head from the drawer and glared at her, as if he thought she was making fun of him. Honey held carefully still and shrugged her uninjured limb. She wasn't making fun, she just wanted to help. The movement caused the huge neckline to gape over to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. She waited as Zach stared impassively at her, the vein at his neck throbbing. After a long moment, he walked over and stood next to her, the tuck of his towel right next to her face. With every breath, she inhaled the scent of his wet body and the bar soap he used. A rivulet of water painstakingly slid from his chest and down his abdomen, until finally disappearing into the tightly twisted white cotton. Honey glanced up to see that he had been reading her face as she watched the droplet's progress. With a shaking breath, she blushed and pulled the covers higher with her good arm. With a twist of his mouth, Zach pulled the neckline back over her shoulder again and quickly left the room. That night, after leaving her with a video baby monitor watching her on the nightstand, Zach returned with a bag of her underwear and some of her nightgowns. After watching her excitedly sort through them, Zach pushed them aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "There were a bunch of boxes with tags on them in your living room. What's that about?" he asked. Honey's eyes dropped, "Oh; that's the charity gift thing for kids. You sign up and get them something they wished for and wrap it up so they can have something under the tree, when they wouldn't have something otherwise. It's nice, you know? I signed up for a bunch and I was supposed to wrap them and get them back to the law firm, but I guess; sorry kids," she trailed off. Looking furious, yet carefully impassive at the same time, Zach cursed under his breath and left again, returning with the packages and a huge stack of unused Styrofoam clamshells from Gatsby's, and dumped them on the bed next to her. For the next few hours, they "wrapped" the presents, Zach carefully fitting items into an appropriate-sized takeout box, and Honey trying to make them pretty with ribbons. As she watched him work, occasionally cursing under his breath, she found herself smiling at his frowning face when he was strategizing how to fit a basketball into three disassembled clamshells. "What are you laughing at?" he said, glaring when he caught her at it. "I wasn't laughing. I was smiling." "Why were you smiling, then?" he asked. "I guess; I just like you; sir," she said, glancing over at him. Honey saw a hopeful softness steal into Zach's eyes until he forcibly wrestled it down and a look of hooded sarcasm shaded them. "Yeah, well; fool me once," he sneered. Angry, Honey closed her eyes, blocking him out the only way she could. "You know, that's; that's not fair. Not after what you said; you scared me!" she said, frustrated that, once again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. Zach choked out a mirthless laugh, "I scared you? What did I say, Honey? What did I fucking say? God! I was on eggshells all night trying not to fuck it up with you and then you just; why? Those creeps you were dancing with at that party, those fucking 'nice guys' that drugged you, they were saying shit that made my skin crawl! I didn't even kiss you! I couldn't! I could barely breathe just for looking at you on our date; you looked just like a fucking angel. What did I say, Honey? What did I say?" Honey reached over and grabbed her phone, flipping through her photo album to a screenshot taken shortly before she blocked his number. "You didn't say it; you texted it. I remember watching you leave for the restroom thinking I'd met the love of my life and then you sent me this; she said, handing her phone to him. Zach took the phone, his face going from an angry red to pale horror in a matter of seconds. "This; this; he gasped, "I didn't; send this; to you; he said, shaking his head. "Whoever had your phone did, sir!" she said, emphasizing the last word, making him wince. "I spent the last year thinking you wanted to do that to me; to kill me. Every time I felt you watching me, every crowd I saw you show up in, every dark room I had to go into, that's what I thought about. I thought that a man I was head over heels about; that I could be so wrong about him. So, excuse me for thinking I liked you, sir. I promise it won't ever happen again!" Honey cried herself to sleep that night, refusing to speak to, or even look at Zach again. When she awoke, the bedroom was empty, and a glass of water and a pain pill were waiting on the nightstand. After swallowing the pill, she stared at the ceiling, furious. She didn't want to be there anymore, to be helpless and dependent on him, to obey all his stupid rules. He didn't deserve to take care of her. So, she tightened the straps on her boot and increased the air pressure to hold her broken ankle tightly enough to walk without her crutches. Then, she took off Zach's t-shirt, pulled on her elf dress, and called herself an Uber. It was when she saw the anticipated arrival time of 8 minutes that she realized her mistake. There was no way for her to get down from the loft and out of the apartment quietly in that amount of time. If she used the crutches, she would be able to descend the stairs quickly enough, but they made such a distinctive clicking racket that they would surely wake up her gorilla-like guard. If she hopped down the stairs on her good foot, it might have worked, but her good arm was on the opposite side and she kept losing her balance. Eventually she decided on the most painful course, of going down on her good and bad legs, using her good arm for support. Her boot thunked horribly the first few times, until she got the hang of it and could place it more quietly on the next step and then hop her good foot down to support it before the scream inside her could escape her lips. By the time she reached the bottom, though, she was shaking with pain and exhausted. Curiosity forced her to look around the rest of the apartment as she caught her breath, sitting on the bottom step. It was clean and unmistakably masculine. Exercise equipment took up a lot of the space not already claimed by a leather couch and TV arrangement. Zach lay on the couch, made up with sheets to act as a bed, his feet sticking out over the arm, his hand tucked under the back of his head, his chest rising and falling under the rumpled sheet. If she wasn't so angry, she'd find him handsome; or maybe he still was handsome, she thought grudgingly, closing her eyes miserably and looking away. Why couldn't he be ugly? Life wasn't fair. Uber. Right. Screwing up her courage for what was ahead, she stood and slowly hobbled across the hardwood floor, agonizing over every painful thump and noisy squeak until she finally reached the door. She unlocked the five locks on his large door, each of them being well-oiled and working perfectly. She expected no less of her anal-retentive, grey-skivvies-on-Tuesdays captor. Finally, she tugged open the heavy door to find endless flights of icy steel-mesh stairs leading all the way down to the street where her Uber was waiting. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me; she cried, breaking down into tears. A strong arm slid down around her waist and mercifully shifted her weight off her throbbing foot, "I know. It sucks. You should try it with a rucksack full of bricks," Zach said, leaning his head down and breathing into her hair. "I want to go home," she whispered. "Let me take care of you; please," Zach murmured into the top of her head, "I; it was my fault this happened to you. I scared you, I know that now; but, please believe me that I would never want to hurt or frighten you like that." "It wasn't just that text," she said, pulling her head away and looking up at him angrily. "All year, I never had a moment's peace. Even when I couldn't see you, I could feel you waiting in the quiet or dark places. Even if you weren't there;" "I was there," he confessed. "I was always there. I didn't understand what had gone wrong. You didn't want to talk to me, and the world just didn't make sense to me unless I knew where you were, what you were doing; unless I knew you were safe." "Maybe you knew I was safe, but I didn't! I thought I'd done something; that somehow I deserved to have this beautiful, scary monster hunting me. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done to destroy something that was so; wonderful." "You didn't do anything, Honey. Nothing at all. You were perfect. You were so perfect that I couldn't keep; you didn't do anything wrong. I never meant to send you that message; please, please believe me." "Why did you send it?" she asked, finally looking up into his eyes. The dark blue liquid pools of her eyes turned violet in the moonlight, and Zach felt a tightening in his chest. "I; I can't tell you that; but it was never meant for you." "You mean, you meant to send that message to someone else? To hurt them like that?" "Honey, I; Zach said, looking around, unable to meet her eyes, "Please, I can't; you wouldn't understand; my life isn't like that anymore." "I want to go home, Zach; please," she whispered. Zach closed his eyes for a long moment before he swallowed and nodded, looking like he was in more pain than she was. "I'll take you home tomorrow, okay? Or Terry will, if you don't want me to. He'll check the place out, make sure you're set up and safe there. You're tired, you're hurting, and your Uber's gone, now. Let me take you back upstairs and you can go in the morning. Please." At that moment, a throb of pain shot through her entire leg, and as angry as Honey was, she knew she couldn't face her empty apartment without a few more hours of rest. "Okay," she whispered. To be continued in part 2, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4 Finding real love, at last. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. Driving home the next day felt like waking up from some kind of dream until I pulled into our driveway and Munchkin came running out to greet me. As I was getting out to reassure him that he hadn't been abandoned, the reality of my life settled right back in. I went inside, and Lane and Mary grunted their hellos without looking up. Ah, home. I texted Erin that I made it back safely, and she replied almost immediately saying what a great night she had, and how much she missed me already. It was going to be a long three weeks until she rotated back to the hospital in Petoskey. Luckily, life was as busy as always, and time flew by. For the first time since I was a child, I could honestly say that I was happy. My happiness lasted until the day before Erin was scheduled to return. I got my first inkling that something might be wrong when I called to see if Wilma wanted me to pick up any groceries for her from town. She didn't answer, which was strange, and the call went to voicemail. Even if she was napping, she was a very light sleeper and would normally answer by the third ring. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I went straight to Wilma's to make sure she was alright. Everything seemed fine when I pulled into the yard, but there was no answer when I knocked on her door. I tried again, but there was nothing but an eerie silence. Fearing the worst, I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and went inside. I called Wilma's name and, hearing no reply, went quickly through the house trying to find her. When I got to her bedroom, I could hear a low moaning sound from the attached washroom. I ran in and found Wilma collapsed by the bathtub. She had slipped and hit her head, injuring her hip and arm in the process. She didn't have her phone with her when she fell and had been unable to move, so who knows how long she had been lying there. I called 911 for an ambulance and then called Erin and suggested that she meet us at the hospital. It took forever for the paramedics to arrive, and longer still to get Wilma loaded into the ambulance. By the time I got to the hospital, she was already being triaged by their emergency team. I took a few minutes while I waited for an update on Wilma's condition to call the rest of the family and give them the news. Alison came directly to the hospital after class, and Sharon brought Mary and Lane as soon as they got home from school. Erin arrived a few hours later and broke down when she saw me. Finally, just after nine, the doctors gave Erin an update. Wilma was in rough shape; she was badly dehydrated and had a moderate concussion, a fractured wrist, and a bone bruise on her hip. It would take her weeks to recover in the hospital. The good news was that she would make a recovery, given enough time and support. Erin and Mary decided to stay with Wilma in the hospital while Sharon dropped Alison at her dorm and drove Lane back to the house. By midnight, Mary had nodded off in a chair in the corner of Wilma's room, while I waited outside with Erin. "You should go home, Davis. There's nothing else you can do tonight. Thank God, you found her; I am not sure what I would have done if you hadn't. I already lost Grampy; I am not ready to lose Gran as well. They are all I have." I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close. "You have me, now, too. And the girls. And you know Lane would do anything for you, you just need to ask. I was serious about what I said in Grand Rapids, Erin. I love you." Erin pulled me closer but didn't reply. The following week was a rollercoaster of emotions. Wilma was improving far quicker than the doctors had anticipated, but she would still be in rehab for at least another two weeks. It was impossible to hide Wilma's accident from the rest of the family, and they descended on the hospital like vultures; or, more accurately, their lawyers descended on the hospital while, for the most part, they stayed far away where it was warm. The one exception was Erin's stepfather, who flew in the next day. "For Christ's sake, Erin. Haven't you done enough harm as it is? Do you want your Gran to die alone on the floor of that dingy old shack of hers? It's time for her to move into a care facility that can look after her. Be reasonable!" When he failed to persuade Erin to act on his behalf, his attorneys requested an emergency court order, alleging that Wilma lacked the capacity to make her own medical decisions, that Erin was not acting in her best interests, and that one of Wilma's children should be appointed as her legal guardian. Wilma was furious when she learned of his actions, but there was little she could do to stop him until she was discharged from the hospital. Both sides knew that her doctor's recommendation would hold a lot of weight with the judge, and it was not good news for Wilma when it came. "If Mrs. Anderson is to return home, she will require around-the-clock care and company. If such care can't be arranged, then I recommend that she be placed in a long-term assisted-living facility that can treat any lingering effects from her fall, and from her late-stage cancer." Erin took the news like a physical blow, and she staggered backward to a chair. We didn't have the resources for 24-hour nursing, and it would be impossible to arrange it with such short notice even if we did. "I'm sorry, Davis. I need to be alone for a while to think." She left without looking back or saying goodbye to Wilma, and I just let her go. I wanted to ease her pain, but I knew that there was nothing I could do. She had lost, and her family had won. I was despondent as I made my way towards the exit, so much so that I nearly ran into Alison who was finishing up her shift at the hospital. "You look terrible, Brother, what happened? Is Wilma alright?" I explained to her about the doctor's recommendation and Erin's reaction. "No one has had the heart to tell Wilma, yet. She's recovered from the fall, but this news is going to kill her." Alison looked at me for a minute, before her mouth quirked upwards in a smile. "I'll do it." "What do you mean? "I'll do it. I'll look after Wilma. I am wrapping up my clinical practicum tomorrow, and I was planning on working this summer. I will look after Wilma instead. Mary can move in with us as well, and I can teach her what she needs to know to care for her when I'm not there. Once her school year is done in June, she and I can spell each other off, and I can still pick up some shifts here and there." It was an amazing offer, but I couldn't let her do it. "Alison, I can't ask you to give up your job for the summer. You need that money for your living expenses at school." "You're not asking; I'm offering. And since you've paid for my tuition so far, I am debt-free and can take out a loan to cover my last term." "I didn't cover the tuition, it was your;" "Davis. Really? Our mother, who never met a five-dollar bill she couldn't snort or inject, left me a college fund? Please. I am not an idiot. I love you, Big Brother, and I love what you have done for me and the others, but it's my time to step up now as well. Let me do this." I felt a heaviness lift from my chest as I hugged Alison and lifted her off her feet. I tried to reach Erin to let her know about Alison's offer, but I drove to her apartment, and she wasn't there, and she must have turned her phone off. I figured she must have gone to Wilma's, so I headed that way. I pulled in just as the sun was setting and found her SUV parked in the laneway, crosshatched by the lengthening shadows of the trees. I parked and saw a lone figure at the end of the dock, still wearing her scrubs. I could see whitecaps on the waves as they smashed into the dock, and I knew she must be freezing, so I grabbed my jacket out of the back of the truck and went to join her. The footing was treacherous, with patches of ice hidden by the gloom and spray, but I made my way carefully to Erin and wrapped my jacket around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned back against me. "Am I doing the right thing, Davis? Gran could have died. She would have died if not for you. Can we risk that happening again? Am I just holding on to the past?" When she was finished, Erin lapsed into silence. "You are doing what Wilma asked you to do. I know your stepfather says that she isn't mentally competent, but I tell you, if she's not mentally competent then none of us are." "But it doesn't make a difference anymore. You heard what the doctor said, and I can't go against her recommendation." "You don't have to, Erin. Alison has offered to move in with Wilma to look after her, and she will teach Mary to look after her as well. Between the two of them, Wilma can stay in the house until the fall, at least, and then we can see." Erin turned towards me in her excitement but lost her footing on the slippery dock and fell backward into the water, pulling me with her. Now, in the summer, that kind of accident might be cause for some laughter and an embarrassing story around the dinner table. In late April, however, spending any time in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan could rapidly prove fatal. The shock from the cold when Erin hit the water caused her to gasp involuntarily, and she took in a mouthful. I had a half-second longer to prepare myself and managed to keep my mouth closed as I submerged, but I could immediately feel the cold in my extremities. The ladder that would normally have been at the end of the dock had been taken out for the winter, so we had no choice but to make for shore. Time compressed as I struggled to pull us through the water while Erin coughed and vomited. Finally, we dragged ourselves onto the shore, wet and shivering. I felt clumsy and weak from the cold, and my clothes felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, but I wrapped my arm around Erin's waist, and we started stumbling toward the house. By the time we got there, we were both shivering uncontrollably and my hands were numb from the cold. I knew we needed to get warm, but it was like my brain was in a fog and I couldn't get my limbs to move the way they were supposed to. So, I did the first thing that came to mind, and started feeding paper and kindling into the fireplace, while Erin went to the linen closet and grabbed a stack of towels. She stripped off her wet scrubs while I got the fire started, and then she helped me get undressed as well. When I felt a little feeling return to my fingers, I fed a larger log onto the fire and then went and got a large comforter which I wrapped around us as we shivered in front of the fire. Eventually, our shivering subsided as our bodies warmed up, and Erin laid her head back against my chest. "I'm not ready for her to go. I'm not ready to be all alone again." "You're not alone anymore; not unless you want to be. I love you, Erin." I felt her relax back against me. "I love you too, Davis, and I'm sorry." "For what?" "For pulling you into the lake like a dumbass; fuck, that was cold." Chapter 6. Wilma's family insisted on taking their emergency petition to court, over Wilma's continued objections, but once the judge learned that Alison, a trained nurse, was going to be staying with her, their decision was an easy one. And let me tell you, Wilma's mind was still sharp as ever, and she made it clear both to her doctors and, eventually, to her family and the judge, that she wanted to go home. Erin's stepfather was beside himself with anger after they lost the hearing. "Why do you insist on delaying the inevitable like this? Wilma is dying. We know it, she knows it, the doctors know it. You're the only one who won't accept it. She would get better care in a facility with real nurses here in town, rather than relying on a student, a little girl, and whatever time you can give her at home. The next time she has a crisis maybe we won't get so lucky, and it will be on your head." Outwardly, Erin looked as smooth and unbothered as glass as her stepfather screamed at her, but her hand was squeezing mine so hard that I thought she might break a bone. Luckily, before I could say anything to make matters worse, Wilma intervened. "What is it that makes you so damn sure that you know what's best for everyone else? You're right, I'm dying. There is nothing that anyone can do about that. If I happen to fall again and speed the process along, so be it. But don't you dare pretend that you care one iota about my health or happiness, or your stepdaughter's happiness for that matter. The only thing you care about is getting your wife's inheritance faster. Is your business doing so badly that you can't wait until I die? It seemed like she had scored a direct hit, as his face turned solid red as he started to stammer out a response, but she dismissed him before he could even begin. "Now go away and leave us in peace. You will be back here for my funeral soon enough, and no one wants you hovering around, hoping to speed it up." A week later, Wilma was released from the hospital, and we brought her back home. Alison moved in right away, along with Munchkin, and Mary soon followed. On most days, James would come by to pick Mary up for school and then drop her back afterward. Alison stayed with Wilma during the day, and Mary covered most of the evenings. Erin came by to help whenever she could, and I did my best to keep them stocked with supplies. It wasn't perfect, but it worked and, more importantly, it made Wilma happy. She didn't talk much about her cancer, but it was clear that it was getting worse. Mary noticed that she was eating less and resting more and that she had begun to take her pain pills in the morning as well as in the evening before she went to bed. Wilma was still adamant that she wanted to stay in her home, however, and continued to teach Mary all she could about art and life. In early June, I had stopped by to visit Wilma and the girls late in the afternoon and I was still there when James dropped Mary off from school. He escorted her into the house but then stood awkwardly in the entranceway rather than leaving. "Mr. Crawford, could we talk for a minute, if you have the time?" I shook my head in amusement. No matter how many times I told him to just call me Davis, Mr. Crawford, I remained. "Sure, I was just finishing up with Wilma," I replied as I gave Wilma a gentle hug. She felt more like a bird at that point than a person, just skin hanging on fragile bones held together by her indomitable will. James looked worried as we went outside. "This may not be any of my business, but yesterday, when I got home from school, Calum and my dad were on a conference call with some officials from the county and Wilma's son and one of her granddaughters, the lawyer. I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything, but they were on speaker, and it was loud enough that I could hear them in the kitchen. "They were saying that when Wilma dies, her estate is being divided up equally amongst all of the children and grandchildren, but there is a part of the will that states that the land by the lake can't be sold or developed. From the sounds of it, however, once Wilma is gone, the county is going to seize that land, using eminent domain, to create a public boat launch, since Wilma's dock is the only four-season dock for at least ten miles in either direction. They will fix it up and then sell the rest of the land to the McDougals for development. "So, Wilma's family will get their money when the county forces the sale, and the McDougals will get their land. The only person left who might make a fuss would be Erin, but they figure she will fall in line once she sees the big fat check from the county." Listening to James' story made my blood boil. I hated the kinds of rich pricks who used their money and their purchased politicians to run roughshod over the rest of us. I just wasn't sure if there was anything that we could do to stop them. I thanked James for the heads up and went to speak with Wilma once he left. I expected Wilma to be as filled with rage at her family's treachery as I was, but she seemed remarkably calm about the whole thing. "Thank you for sharing this with me and thank James for his candor. He must have been deeply conflicted between his loyalty to his family, and his desire to do the right thing. Now, as to what we are going to do about this, we are going to do nothing. I don't want you to mention this to Erin or Mary, it will just worry them and make them upset. And you have more important things to do than to rage against a bunch of duplicitous assholes. Leave this one with me. "Now, why don't you go outside, take that shirt off, and start chopping some wood or something equally manly? Erin will be here soon, and you know how she likes to see you when you have worked up a sweat." I didn't know exactly what Wilma had planned, but for the next few days, she spent a lot of time on the phone. Towards the end of June, a very well-dressed older man in a tailored suit was leaving her house just as I was pulling in. It was clear that he had been there before since Munchkin ignored him and came over to give me an enthusiastic greeting instead. The man gave me a friendly smile as he put his briefcase in his top-of-the-line Lexus SUV before walking over to introduce himself. "Brantford Sage," he said holding out his hand. "You must be Mr. Crawford. Wilma has told me a lot about you. With everything she said, I was kind of expecting you to be seven feet tall and wearing a cape." I laughed at the image. "It's nice that she thinks so highly of me, but she gives me too much credit. And please call me Davis." "Well, Davis, and please call me Brantford, I have known Wilma for more years than you have been alive, and I have never heard her talk about anyone the way that she talks about you, except for Phillip, of course. And we all know how she felt about Phillip." I knew that it was none of my business why Mr. Sage was visiting Wilma, but my desire to protect her overrode any hesitation on my part about speaking out. "I am sorry if it's rude of me to ask, Mr. Sage, but what is your business here with Wilma? As you may know, her own family, along with a local family of some prominence, have been waging a campaign to get Wilma to sell this land. You are not here on their behalf, are you?" "I can assure you, Davis, that I am only here as a favor to Wilma. I normally split my time between our offices in Detroit, New York, and London, but when Wilma calls, I make it a priority to answer. I am sorry that I can't say more about my business here, attorney-client privilege, but you can ask her yourself if you would like." "It's all good. Wilma is still sharp as a tack, and even if she has lost a step or two, she is still twice as smart and four times as wise as I will ever be." "Well, I should be going. But sadly, I am sure I will see you again, soon enough." By the end of the summer, it was clear that Wilma's adventures were almost done. When she worked with Mary, she would often fall asleep in the comfortable chair in the corner. She had never had a large appetite, but recently, it had dwindled almost to nothing. Erin was very worried and suggested that it was time to move her Gran into hospice, but Wilma wouldn't hear of it. "This house has been my home for more than 60 years; I am not going to leave it now. It would miss me too much, and I can't have my home pining away over me. There is nothing more depressing than a sad home." Even Munchkin, the dog with boundless energy, became more subdued and often sat a quiet watch over Wilma while she slept. Finally, on the last Sunday of August, I got the call I had been dreading. I could hear Mary's voice on the other end of the line, holding back tears. "Gran says she's too tired and it's time to stop fighting. She told me to call you and Erin, and ask you to come;" I could hear the sobs building in her as she spoke, "to say goodbye." "Is James there with you, Mary?" "I called him. He's on his way." "I will call Erin and then go and pick her up. She won't be in any condition to drive." I figured the odds of there being a speed trap on the highway to Petoskey before 7 AM on a Sunday were slim to none, so I made it to Erin's apartment in record time. She must have been watching for me out of her window, as she threw herself into my arms before I was fully out of the truck. "I am so sorry, Honey," was all I could say, and I just held her in silence until the waves of grief that wracked her body had subsided. "We should get going," I said, not knowing what else to say. Maybe I should have told her that "Everything would be alright," but I suspected that it would be a while before that was true. But that was okay. People grieve in their own time. Erin held my hand tightly as we started the drive to Wilma's. "Why don't you tell me some of your favorite memories with your Gran and Grampy?" Erin remained silent for a few minutes, but once she started talking, the floodgates opened wide. She told me about the first time that her parents dropped her at the airport when she was only seven. How scared she was of these strange older people she didn't know. Phillip had seen her fear, and rather than trying to comfort her; how do you comfort a child whose parents have abandoned them; he had taken her for a long walk down by the lake. She remembered the sound of the wind blowing off the lake, as Phillip told her stories about their past. She remembered the summers she spent with Gran and Grampy as a teen. By that point, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, and her parents wanted to show her off to their important friends in Europe and places further afield. But she had already chosen to spend her time with the people that she loved. She spoke of coming to see them when she was in college. Of the awful year that Phillip got sick, and her grief at his passing. She said that her parents came to Good Hart for the funeral, but it felt like she and Gran were the only people to truly grieve his loss. She fell silent as we pulled into Wilma's laneway. "Go and see your Gran. Let me know what you need, Honey. I am here for you." Despite her grief, Erin looked at me as she took my hand. "What about you? What do you need, Davis? You love her too." "People show their love in different ways. I never really got the chance to give or receive love as a child, at least not in the way that most of us think of it. But being with you has made me realize something important about myself; I take care of the people I love. So, let me take care of you, Mary, and Wilma, one final time." By that point, Mary and Munchkin had come outside. Mary's eyes were red, and you could see the tracks that her tears had left on her cheeks. I got out of the truck and just held her for a minute. Erin came up behind me and enveloped her as well. Munchkin, mourning in his own way, stood watch for us, keeping us safe as we grieved. "Mary, you don't have to be here for the end if it's too hard. You can say goodbye, then take the truck and go and meet James. We can let you know when it's over." She just shook her head. "Where is she?" Mary led us into the living room. The wisp that remained of Wilma was in the comfortable chair by the fire. She had been a very small woman when we met less than a year before, but now she looked almost ethereal. Like the wind could slip right through her collecting her stories as it passed. She beckoned me over with one of her curled hands. "Davis, I am glad that you're here. I know I am a greedy old biddy, but I have three favors to ask, and I don't have a lot of time left to do the asking." "Of course, Wilma. You know I would do anything for you and Erin." She closed her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. "The first favor is that I need some time alone with my girls. I am sure James will be here in a minute; he is a good boy, don't hold those assholes in his family against him. He loves our Mary. Go outside, and when he arrives, I want you to go down to the lake and set up the five Adirondack chairs, so they are all together and facing out over the water. Then come back up to me." "Of course, Wilma." I went outside and sat on the front steps, scratching Munchkin's ears as I waited. James pulled up less than ten minutes later and I explained what had happened, and Wilma's request. When we were finished at the lake, we walked back up to the house, with Munchkin following quietly on our heels. We let ourselves in and saw Wilma, Erin, and Mary pulled together in an embrace. I was hesitant to interrupt, but Wilma saw us and called us over. "There's your big, strong men. Girls, could you get some of the outdoor blankets for James to carry down to the lake for us? And Davis, my second favor is for you to carry me down to the lake one last time. Would the rest of you give us a few minutes before you follow?" I picked Wilma up from the chair and wrapped her in my arms. She felt almost weightless, but I saw hints of her mischievous smile as we started walking. "You know, the last time a man carried me like this, the journey ended very differently." I couldn't help but smile, even at the end Wilma was still quick with the teasing and innuendo. "I bet you wish it was that other man carrying you now," I joked in return, but Wilma just rested her head against my chest. "No. No, I don't, Davis. I will see that other man soon enough. I am well content to be here with you. I am so proud of you. You are such a good and faithful man. It is a lot to ask of you, but for my third favor, will you look after my girls when I am gone?" By that point, we had reached the shore, and I set Wilma down in the middle chair of the five. "You don't need to ask, Wilma. Of course, I will look after them. Because you asked it of me, and because I love them just like you do." Wilma smiled and reached out to take my hand while she pressed three small objects into my palm. I looked down and saw that she had removed her engagement and wedding rings and given them to me. They were joined by an almost identical wedding band that must have belonged to Phillip before he passed. "You will know when the time is right for these. I would have liked to have been there to see it, though. Through these rings, maybe Phillip and I can continue to be a small part of your love for each other, even once we're gone." James and the girls had started down the path to the lake and would reach us in a minute. Before they arrived, Wilma gave me a final serious look. "All hell is going to break loose when they read my will after the funeral. Be there for Erin, please. The mistakes I made with my children are all my fault, but Erin will be left to bear that weight for a little while longer once I'm gone. It would mean a lot to a dying woman to know that she won't have to carry that weight alone." "I'll share that weight with her, for as long as she needs. For as long as she will let me." Wilma patted my hand. "That's good. I love you, Davis, but I think it's time." Mary and Erin arrived with James, and they made sure that Wilma was bundled in warm blankets as she looked out over the lake. Mary and Erin sat on either side of her and held her hands, while James and I sat at the ends. Munchkin settled against Wilma's feet, to keep them warm. After a while, Wilma started talking. She told stories about her life with Phillip; how they met, when they first came to this place, building a home, and raising their family. She spoke of their success as artists, and their failures as parents. She spoke of her regrets but also about her deep love for Erin and Mary, and how much she appreciated what they had done for her. She paused for a moment as the wind began to pick up, but we heard her last words before the wind carried the rest away. "You are all artists, and you are all worthy of love." She fell silent, and we sat for a long while listening to the wind off the lake. Epilogue. As always, Wilma was right. The reading of her will did indeed set off a firestorm, but she had made sure that we were ready for it. Do you remember Mr. Sage, that man in the suit who came to visit Wilma not too long before she passed? It turns out that he wasn't just an old friend, he was also a named partner at the largest law firm in the state and one of the most powerful firms in the country. It seems that Phillip didn't just paint portraits for the richest family in the state (you would recognize their name from the hospitals, museums, and other cultural institutions where it is featured prominently), but he also became a close family friend. You would never have known it, though, since Phillip refused to even acknowledge their friendship in public so that he didn't inadvertently trade on their name. Mr. Sage was also a good friend of that family and, over the years, became close with Wilma and Phillip, as well. After James told Wilma his story, she called those old family friends and, for the first time in their long friendship, asked for their help. She would never have done so for her own benefit, but she couldn't bear to think that Phillip's legacy would be lost because of the greed and treachery of his children. Within a day, Mr. Sage was working on a solution to Wilma's problem, and everything was signed and sealed well before Wilma passed on. The day of the reading of the will would have been comic if it hadn't also been so tragic. In the weeks after Wilma's death, her remaining children and grandchildren had gathered to express their deep sadness at her passing. Many black outfits were worn, and many sad faces were made. Not surprisingly, the entire McDougal family also showed up both to the funeral and to the smaller gathering at Wilma's house afterward. James stood with Mary, his arm around her shoulder, both to comfort her and to protect her from his own family, as best he could. The rest of the McDougal clan stood with Wilma's family and made sure to avail themselves of the free wine and hors d'oeuvres. As per her wishes, Wilma was cremated, and her ashes were scattered from the deck behind her house so that the wind could carry them towards the lake. Again, as per her wishes, the will was read immediately thereafter. The first surprise of the day came when Mr. Sage, who everyone thought was there merely to express his condolences at Wilma's passing, informed the family lawyers that the will in their possession had been revoked earlier that year. Both Wilma's family and their lawyers began to protest until the man formally introduced himself as a named partner at Sage, Bentley, and Carstairs, and as the new executor of Wilma's estate. The second surprise was the size and extent of that estate. The property by the lake was considerably larger than anyone had known and included a number of additional houses and cottages that Wilma and Phillip had acquired over the years. Unlike the previous will, however, that had left an equal share of the land to each of Wilma's descendants, the new one protected the entire property, in perpetuity, as part of a land trust that was established for the benefit and use of artists, local residents and even the Fudgies, when summer came to the lower peninsula. As part of the land trust, the dock was to be extended and reinforced and a public boat landing and park were to be built and maintained on the land, again, in perpetuity. Erin and I were named as trustees of the land trust, along with Mr. Sage and Mary, when she came of age. Given Michigan's strict laws around the use of eminent domain for private gain, there was no chance that the McDougals and the county would be able to move forward with their plans to seize the land. The third and final surprise was that Wilma and Phillip had done much better with the sale of their art and with their investments over the years than anyone had thought or expected. In addition to the property that was now in the trust, they had amassed a fortune in the low eight figures. Most of that money was left to manage the land trust, but a not inconsiderable amount was set aside to fund the college education of my brother and sisters and to pay off Erin's considerable student debt from medical school. The will also stipulated that the estate would pay for any costs that Wilma's family had incurred to attend the funeral (with receipts, of course.) Wilma's paintings were left to the public gallery in Grand Rapids and galleries further afield, with a few notable exceptions. Mary was given three paintings of her choice from the collection, that weren't otherwise named in the will. After much thought and consideration, she chose both the first and last works that Wilma had painted, both of which had been hanging in the living room, along with a small study of the house that Wilma kept in her bedroom beside a picture of Phillip and her on their wedding day. Erin was given Phillip's portrait of her as a young woman, and that portrait still hangs above our mantelpiece alongside his portrait of Wilma as a young woman, which she left to me. The only time they left our mantelpiece was when they were featured in a retrospective exhibit of their work at a museum in New York, but the house felt strangely empty when they were gone. Erin's family was furious at the changes in the new will. They threatened to fight it with every resource at their disposal. They tried every dirty trick they could think of, questioning Wilma's mental capacity in the months before her death, fighting the legality of the land trust, and trying to impugn our characters implying that we were gold diggers who wormed our way into Wilma's life to steal the family inheritance. In the end, though, the family's lawyers were no match for Brantford and his firm. When none of their ploys worked, Erin's family and the McDougals turned on each other, and the ensuing lawsuits are still ongoing to this day. I would love to say that that was the end of the McDougals, or that Erin's family came around in the end. Unfortunately, they are still just as terrible as ever. But at least their arrogance and corruption are now far enough away that we can safely ignore them. On a similar note, my mother is still absent from our lives. I don't honestly know if she is even still alive, although I assume that someone would have tried to find her next of kin if she had died. Sometimes, I am charitable and hope that she managed to face her demons and turn what's left of her life around. But most of the time, I am just glad that she is no longer able to hurt the people I love. After things settled down, Alison finished her schooling and became a nurse practitioner, as she had always dreamed of. In her last year of study, while she was doing a clinical practicum at a hospital in Detroit, she met a lovely internist who fell madly in love with her. Luckily for him, his feelings were reciprocated, and they are now married and living in Grand Rapids. They split their holidays between our family and her husband's family in Detroit, and they stay with us for a few weeks each summer. Their son is as thick as thieves with our daughter, and their imagination carries them through endless adventures together. Sharon was successful in her ambition to leave the peninsula and see more of the world. She finished her undergraduate degree in creative writing in Chicago before setting out to see the world, and she is still out there wandering. But she sends us lots of pictures when she gets the chance, and recently, Erin noticed that many of her pictures have the same very attractive woman smiling in the background. I think it was probably a coincidence, but Erin thinks otherwise. I sure hope Erin's right. There is nothing I want more than for my family to find love and happiness. When the spirit moves her to come home to us (with or without her friend), she will be very welcome. Mary spent months grieving her loss, but rather than turning inward, she channeled her emotions into a triptych of paintings that firmly established her as an upcoming talent in the world of art. She lived with us for several years until James proposed, at which point they moved into one of the cottages owned by the trust. Unfortunately, James' family found out that he told Wilma about their plans, and they disowned him. He had a few tough years, but Mary helped him through, and when he turned eighteen, I took him on as an apprentice. He now runs one of my crews. I used to worry that he loved Mary more than she loved him and that the imbalance would lead to heartache. My worries were put to rest when she painted her first portrait. James was her subject, and I have never seen a painting more suffused with love and desire. A few years later, a collector offered her an eye-watering amount of money for it, but she politely declined. As for Lane, well who knows what he will do with his life, but he is carrying a 4.0 GPA, and the world is his oyster. He was sure impressed by the lawyers who rained hellfire down on the McDougals, though, so I suspect that he might be leaning that way in the future. He is also building quite a following as a DJ, combining classics from the 40's and 50's with new beats. He recently started dating a new girl, and she is a real sweetheart. We haven't told her about the day that he met Erin for the first time; yet. But trust me, that time will come. But until it does, Lane is more than happy to keep up with his chores and help out around the house. But what he loves more than anything is to carry his rod out to the end of the dock and fish, while the wind off the lake plays through his hair. And then there is Erin and me. I have to say that things have worked out pretty well for us, in the end. It took less than a year for me to make use of Wilma's last gifts, and Erin and I were married the next summer in the new park down by the dock. Wilma left her house and a few acres of land to Erin, separate from the land trust, and we spent several years fixing it up and expanding it so that my brother and sisters know that there is always a place for them if they need it; for a day, a week, or a lifetime. I am still not the best at taking orders or following instructions; but gentle requests from the woman that I love, sealed with a kiss on my cheek? It turns out that I am more than fine with those. And I am still not always sure what a beautiful doctor sees in a plumber like me. But rather than let my insecurity get the better of me, I have learned to accept my good fortune with a smile. One tradition that we've adopted as our own is that we make time to dance together every Friday night. If we have guests, or family who are home, they know that they will be joining us as well; Wilma's 'no wallflowers' rule is still in full effect. Now that she is old enough, I am teaching our daughter to dance, and her favorite thing in the world is to twirl around the living room in her mommy and daddy's arms. Some nights, when it's just the three of us and our daughter has gone to bed, we let the soft crackle of Wilma's old 45s take us back. We dance together with the lights down low, the music threading through the quiet night like a whisper from the past. And when the music fades, we hold each other close and listen to the voices of those we have loved, as they linger in the wind off the lake. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

In 2000, 23-year-old Leah Roberts packed up her Jeep and set out on what seemed to be a spontaneous road trip across the American Northwest. Searching for meaning after loss, Leah told no one exactly where she was going - or why. Nine days later, her SUV was discovered wrecked and abandoned deep in the forests near Bellingham, Washington, sparking one of the most perplexing missing-person investigations of the decade.

Types of Mom's You See at Every Holiday Event: School holiday events are basically a social experiment. This episode, we're talking about the different types of moms you see at every Christmas concert, class party, and festive school gathering. From the mom who is thriving in full holiday gear to the mom running on no sleep, no coffee, and pure survival mode, we share the characters you'll instantly recognize and probably identify with.  Most Unhinged Family Member at Christmas: Every family has that person and Christmas just brings it out. This episode, we're talking about the most unhinged family member at the holiday table. From chaotic comments to questionable behavior, we share our own real-life examples and invite you to nominate yours. If you've ever survived Christmas dinner and needed a drink afterward, this one's for you.  What's Trending: We're covering a little bit of everything today…starting with the Santa Cruz teacher who broke the internet and somehow caught Khloé Kardashian's attention. Then it's all about holiday candy nostalgia as Nerds brings back Christmas Frosty gummies for National Hard Candy Day. We'll tell you what's going on around SF tonight, including Union Square's Winter Walk and the Fort Mason Night Market (Taylor will be there), and wrap things up with sports.  Second Date Update: Andrew thought he'd just had one of those rare, refreshing dates. Sofia was smart, intentional, and genuinely interested in his life. They talked family, food, and future plans and it felt like two adults seeing if their lives could actually align. He left dinner hopeful. Maybe even a little excited. Then reality set in.  Khloe Kardashian Has Entered the Chat:A Santa Cruz teacher goes viral, Khloé Kardashian jumps into the comments, and suddenly everyone's invested. We unpack how Jacob Myers' relatable teacher content turned into a Kardashian-adjacent moment, why fans started playing matchmaker, and whether the whole thing feels heartfelt or performative. Marcus is skeptical, Taylor's just thinks he's hot, and we debate what viral fame really means, especially in education.  Good News: After an SUV crashed through the front of a Redwood City Ace Hardware and started a fire, a 16-year-old employee stepped up in a huge way. This episode highlights his quick thinking, the intense moments inside the store, and how everyone made it out safely before flames spread. A scary situation with a powerful reminder of how fast actions can make all the difference.

Send us a textConsumer Reports ranks the least reliable full-size pickup trucks for 2026.Enjoy 3W Christmas Exclusive Sale!Official Website (12.10 – 12.31): Up to 35% OFFhttps://3wliners.com/?ref=sxdunbio&utm_source=ref%26utm_mediaCode: VBELTANDSONAmazon (12.10 – 12.31) ：Up to $45 OFFRam floor liners: https://amzn.to/48H4gOBPickup floor liners:https://amzn.to/3XUWsCJCode: PICKUPTRUCK#3Wfloormats #BuiltforDecades #Changeto3W #caraccessories #carmat #floorliners #MatTheRightWay #Craftedtobeunique #Ram#Ram1500Link to the Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/c/pickuptrucktalkCheck out our Forum: https://forum.pickuptrucktalk.com/Subscribe for more Pickup Truck and SUV videos: https://www.youtube.com/c/pickuptrucktalk/?sub_confirmation=1Join this channel to get access to special perks:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxO2h83kcVBaLFjjCLer3AA/joinInterested in owner reviews? Check out this playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL8PJw4jHcHhd-yzt-YcediZtfw2imipPLTrying to find the most reliable trucks and SUVs?: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL8PJw4jHcHhdr5YpBbNbL9bRpKdm63FTFShop our Cafepress store for new Pickup Truck +SUV Talk gear: https://www.cafepress.com/pickuptrucktalkFind us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pickuptrucktalk/Also, on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pickuptrucktalk/And on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PickupTruckTalkOur website is here: https://www.pickuptrucktalk.comSupport the showSupport the show

Federico calls the Homie Helpline furious because he introduced his work crush—who had previously given him a "boo basket"—to his friend, only for the friend to immediately swoop in and steal her away because Federico never shot his shot, leaving him feeling like he brought his own replacement. Meanwhile, the hosts freak out over the bizarre news that the brother of LA Rams star Puka Nacua was arrested for allegedly stealing a Lakers rookie's SUV and being dumb enough to valet it. [Edited by @iamdyre

TSA's Guide To Which Holiday Gifts Won't Make It Through Security: If you've ever had to unwrap a present at the TSA checkpoint, this one's for you. We're talking about TSA's holiday travel tips, including why gift bags beat wrapping paper, which electronics need extra screening, and why eggnog and snow globes might not make the cut. Save yourself the hassle and travel smarter this season.  Most Unhinged Family Member at Christmas: Every family has that person and Christmas just brings it out. This episode, we're talking about the most unhinged family member at the holiday table. From chaotic comments to questionable behavior, we share our own real-life examples and invite you to nominate yours. If you've ever survived Christmas dinner and needed a drink afterward, this one's for you.  What's Trending: This episode is your quick-hit guide to what's happening right now: the Oscars moving to YouTube TV, a Friday night Fort Mason Night Market, Home Alone with the SF Symphony, and a new holiday Ben & Jerry's flavor. Plus, National Regifting Day, local sports, and a little holiday chaos sprinkled in.  Second Date Update: Leo met Jasmine on Hinge and went for cocktails in Oakland. She was stylish, sharp, and had an edge he loved. They talked music, travel, and dating horror stories, and by the end of the night, Leo felt locked in. We break down the moment you realize a date might be more than just a date…or was it?  Types of Mom's You See at Every Holiday Event: School holiday events are basically a social experiment. This episode, we're talking about the different types of moms you see at every Christmas concert, class party, and festive school gathering. From the mom who is thriving in full holiday gear to the mom running on no sleep, no coffee, and pure survival mode, we share the characters you'll instantly recognize and probably identify with.  Good News: After an SUV crashed through the front of a Redwood City Ace Hardware and started a fire, a 16-year-old employee stepped up in a huge way. This episode highlights his quick thinking, the intense moments inside the store, and how everyone made it out safely before flames spread. A scary situation with a powerful reminder of how fast actions can make all the difference.

What happens when a midsize SUV quietly blurs the line between mainstream and luxury? Is the 2026 Mazda CX-70 Turbo S Premium Plus the sleeper SUV more drivers should be paying attention to? In this review, Richard Rush breaks down Mazda's newest two-row SUV with 340 horsepower, M-Hybrid Boost, and a driving feel that surprises right from the first on-ramp. Does the mild electric assist change how it accelerates? How does it compare to the CX-90—and is losing the third row actually a win for cargo space and families? With upscale materials, heated and ventilated seats, strong fuel economy, and a price point that undercuts many luxury rivals, this CX-70 is one to check out. Is this the SUV people keep asking, “What is that?”—and why are long-time Mazda owners racking up over a half a million miles? Listen in and decide whether the CX-70 belongs on your short list. Have a question about a car review or a general automotive question? Call the KLZ560am studios in Denver during the Drive-Radio program on Saturdays from 10 am to 1 pm MT at 303-477-5600 or text 307-200-8222. Listen live on the KLZ560am app or at https://Drive-Radio.com.

After hours, the Indianapolis Motor Speedway is supposed to be quiet. No roaring engines. No screaming fans. Just empty garages, sleeping grandstands, and a handful of staff wrapping up their night. In 2012, a young marketing intern thought that's all it was going to be—one more late-night pace car drop-off, three women loading boxes into an SUV, and a sleepy drive home. Instead, they got a crash course in just how haunted one of the world's most legendary racetracks might be. As they stood in the shadow of garages where countless drivers and crew once risked their lives, a sound drifted through the stillness—soft, distant music that didn't belong in the age of smartphones, more like something spinning on an old phonograph in another era. Then, without warning, a man's voice cut through the dark with a chilling command: “Get out.” #RealGhostStoriesOnline #GhostStory #HauntedSpeedway #GhostlyEncounters #GhostlyVoices #ParanormalPodcast #HauntedWorkplace #RacingGhosts #TrueHaunting #ParanormalActivity #CreepyEncounters #GhostStories  Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

After yesterday's episode, we were contacted by a variety of people with information and we can say unequivocally that the “steel neck” quotation never came from the surgeon. Not only that, but the Feds were involved in the hospital. Also, we received some information about Charlie's SUV after the assassination and things aren't adding up. 00:00 - Start. 01:35 - Update on the "surgeon's" statement. 10:53 - Strange events that led to finding the gun. 24:39 - What happened to Charlie's SUV? 32:00 - How the feds seem implicated. 51:44 - Comments. PreBorn!​​​​​​ ​​​​ Donate securely by calling 855-601-2229 or by visiting https://preborn.com/candace American Financing​​​​ ​​ NMLS 182334, http://www.nmlsconsumeraccess.org. APR for rates in the 5s start at 6.196% for well qualified borrowers. Call 800-795-1210 for details about credit costs and terms. Visit http://www.AmericanFinancing.net/Owens. Rumble​​ ​​​​ If you support my show and free speech, go to https://rumble.onelink.me/u9tR/candace and download the Rumble app today! Follow my channel by searching "Candace Owens" Tax Network USA​ ​ Don't let the IRS be the first to act. Visit http://www.tnusa.com/candace or call 1-800-958-1000 for your FREE discovery call with Tax Network USA. Nimi Skincare​ Save 10% on your order with promo code CANDACE10 at http://www.NimiSkincare.com Candace Official Website: https://candaceowens.com Candace Merch: https://shop.candaceowens.com Candace on Apple Podcasts: https://t.co/Pp5VZiLXbq Candace on Spotify: https://t.co/16pMuADXuT Candace on Rumble: https://rumble.com/c/RealCandaceO Candace en Español: https://www.youtube.com/@CandaceOwensEnEspanol Candace Owens em Português: https://www.youtube.com/@CandaceOwensemPortugues Candace Owens en Français: https://www.youtube.com/@CandaceOwensEnFrançais Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

He was a fantastic hitter. Over a 162 game average in his 12 year career, he averaged a 4.2 WAR, 40 Home Runs, and 130 RBI. He scored 974 Runs for an average of 103 over 162 Games. The only thing more potent than his bat, was his pissed-off, surly disposition, which included throwing baseballs purposefully at hecklers in the stands, running down trick-or-treaters in his SUV who vandalized his home, as well as his strong dislike for the media, and the the abrasive bullying tactics he employed against them. As talented as he was, Albert Belle could never shake his anger or his drive for perfection. And the indignity of never being able to find that perfection made Belle's blood boil. His career ended prematurely as one of the games best sluggers, with more stats to give, left on the diamond, Because of his petulant behavior, he has never been seriously considered for induction into the Hall Of Fame. This is his story. #AlbertBelle #CarrieBelle #TerryBelle #SkipBertman #LSUTigers #ClevelandIndians #ChicagoWhiteSox #BaltimoreOrioles #OmarVizquel #JasonGrimsley #HuntingtonHighSchool #CapeCodLeague #FernandoVina

A family vacation in Central Florida turns deadly after a father allegedly falls asleep in a hot tub while holding his toddler daughter. A strange smell inside an SUV in Tennessee leads to a long, yellow python hidden under the hood. Drew Nelson reports.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Two very different roads, one clear question: what actually works for everyday drivers? We put miles on the 2025 Subaru Forester Premium Hybrid and the refreshed Kia EV6 GT-Line AWD to find out, comparing real-world efficiency, tech usability, comfort, and cost. Along the way, we pull apart the numbers you care about—mpg versus range, tow ratings, cargo usability—and the little things that make or break ownership, like whether your phone stays put on the charger.We start with the Forester Hybrid's practical perks: wide-opening doors that make entry easy, an insulated windshield that softens road noise, and a simple, clean interface anchored by a 12.3-inch digital cluster and 11.6-inch touchscreen. The hybrid system's 194 horsepower feels adequate, and while the CVT's manual mode isn't essential, the all-wheel-drive ride is planted and predictable. We talk through honest mileage—32.3 mpg over nearly 400 miles—and why a 16.6-gallon tank and 1,500-pound tow rating help this small SUV punch above its weight. Then comes the money: where the trim pricing lands, and how it stacks up against CR-V Hybrid, RAV4 Hybrid, CX-50 Hybrid, and Sportage Hybrid.We switch gears to car culture with a practical guide to starting a collection without celebrity money. Think storage first, define a theme, build a wish list, network with local enthusiasts, and budget for maintenance before you chase the dream. Whether you love 80s Chevys or numbers-matching time capsules, discipline builds a better garage than impulse ever will.Then the EV6 GT-Line takes center stage. Built in Georgia, this is one of the sharpest-looking EVs on the market, with refreshed front and rear design, a sweeping cockpit display, and a smart flat phone charger in a striking console. We talk range reality—expect around 275 miles in daily use—charging frustrations, surprisingly smooth handling for a 4,500-pound crossover, and a 2,700-pound tow rating that adds real utility. Pricing, competitors, and the truth about finding fast, reliable chargers round it out.If you're cross-shopping hybrids and EVs, this ride-along gives you clarity without hype. Follow the show, share it with a friend who's shopping, and drop your take: team hybrid or team EV? Leave a review and tell us what you're drivBe sure to subscribe for more In Wheel Time Car Talk!The Lupe' Tortilla RestaurantsLupe Tortilla in Katy, Texas Gulf Coast Auto ShieldPaint protection, tint, and more!Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.---- ----- Want more In Wheel Time car talk any time? In Wheel Time is now available on Audacy! Just go to Audacy.com/InWheelTime where ever you are.----- -----Be sure to subscribe on your favorite podcast provider for the next episode of In Wheel Time Podcast and check out our live multiplatform broadcast every Saturday, 10a - 12nCT simulcasting on Audacy, YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, Twitch and InWheelTime.com.In Wheel Time Podcast can be heard on you mobile device from providers such as:Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music Podcast, Spotify, SiriusXM Podcast, iHeartRadio podcast, TuneIn + Alexa, Podcast Addict, Castro, Castbox, YouTube Podcast and more on your mobile device.Follow InWheelTime.com for the latest updates!Twitter: https://twitter.com/InWheelTimeInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/inwheeltime/https://www.youtube.com/inwheeltimehttps://www.Facebook.com/InWheelTimeFor more information about In Wheel Time Podcast, email us at info@inwheeltime.com

He was a fantastic hitter. Over a 162 game average in his 12 year career, he averaged a 4.2 WAR, 40 Home Runs, and 130 RBI. He scored 974 Runs for an average of 103 over 162 Games. The only thing more potent than his bat, was his pissed-off, surly disposition, which included throwing baseballs purposefully at hecklers in the stands, running down trick-or-treaters in his SUV who vandalized his home, as well as his strong dislike for the media, and the the abrasive bullying tactics he employed against them. As talented as he was, Albert Belle could never shake his anger or his drive for perfection. And the indignity of never being able to find that perfection made Belle's blood boil. His career ended prematurely as one of the games best sluggers, with more stats to give, left on the diamond, Because of his petulant behavior, he has never been seriously considered for induction into the Hall Of Fame. This is his story. #AlbertBelle #CarrieBelle #TerryBelle #SkipBertman #LSUTigers #ClevelandIndians #ChicagoWhiteSox #BaltimoreOrioles #OmarVizquel #JasonGrimsley #HuntingtonHighSchool #CapeCodLeague #FernandoVina

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly. "We thought that our children would grow to love this area over time, like we did. But they never did, and they left as soon as they could get away. My daughter, Samantha, is a retired lawyer and she and her third husband split their time between their loft in Manhattan and their beach house in the Bahamas. My son, Robert, is an oil executive down in Texas. Neither of them has been here in more than a decade, except for Phillip's funeral. "My baby, Max, passed away more than twenty years ago now of cancer. Erin is his granddaughter. She is a pediatrician, and she splits her time between the hospital in Petoskey and the children's hospital down in Grand Rapids. She comes to see me when she can, but she is very busy. My other relatives all live busy lives far away from here. We chose to live here, though, so I can't be too upset that the rest of the family chose to live far away. "But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Crawford? Do you have any children?" "It's just me and my siblings, I'm afraid, and it's been that way for quite some time. My oldest sister, Alison, is 20, and she goes to college at North Central Michigan, in Petoskey. She is planning to become a nurse practitioner. The rest of the gang still lives at home with me. Sharon is 17 now, so she kind of runs the show while I am working; Mary is 15 but going on 30, if you know what I mean; and Lane is the baby of the family at 12." "Where are your parents?" "I don't honestly know. We each have a different father, or at least we think we do. Sharon, Lane, and I have no idea who our fathers are, so there's a chance that we might be full siblings, but I doubt it. My mother never kept the same man around for long. Alison's father has been in and out of jail since before she was born and is currently serving a stint in federal prison. But Mary has it the worst of all of us. "My mother met Mary's dad on a weekend bender in Vegas, and he is a pretty big deal. Rich, famous, the kind of guy you see on TV and the cover of magazines. A real family man, except when it comes to Mary, whom he refuses to even acknowledge. He bought my mom's silence with a lump sum payment and a non-disclosure agreement. That money was supposed to be put in a trust for Mary, but my mom snorted and injected it all in less than a year. Mary has written to her father dozens of times and reached out to him on social media countless more, but he wants nothing to do with his bastard daughter. "As for my mom, she went away for the weekend almost seven years ago now and left me in charge. And I am still in charge, I guess. So, no time for dating or romance for me, and I think that I will be just about done with raising kids by the time that Lane goes off to college." Wilma gave me a look filled with more empathy than I had felt in a long time, maybe ever. "Anyway, I should take a look at your boiler and see what I can do about getting you some heat." I would have called the boiler in Wilma's basement old, but that wouldn't have done it justice. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum of heating and plumbing, and it was hanging on to life by the barest of threads. With only a year to live, however, I wasn't going to recommend to Wilma that she replace the whole system with something more modern and efficient. "I think I can fix your boiler so that it will hold on for another year or two, and I can patch a couple of leaks in the lines to the main radiators as well. One line to a radiator at the back of the house is completely shot, so I will shut that one off and be back to replace it later this week." "What's all that going to cost?" "It's free of charge, Ma'am. You've got enough to look after with your health and all, without having to worry about your heating system. I never had a grandma to spoil, at least not one that I know of, so it would be my pleasure to do this for you." "Please, it's Wilma. And it's a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandchildren, and not the other way around. But your kindness is mighty appreciated, Davis." It took me a couple of hours to shore up the boiler and repair the lines that were still in reasonable condition before I was finished for the day. As I got ready to leave, I found Wilma sitting alone in the living room reading an old paperback. "I'll call you later this week, once the replacement line for your radiator comes in." Wilma got a mischievous smile on her face. "Why, Davis, are you getting fresh with me?" "If I were older and more experienced, I would in an instant. But I hardly think I can compete with the memory of your Phillip." "Too true, too true. Alright young man, well thank you for taking the time to look after a foolish old woman on a cold October night." "I hardly think you're foolish, Wilma, but it's been my pleasure." I didn't get home from Wilma's until well after nine that night, and by the time I pulled into our gravel driveway, I was beat. The dilapidated old yard light mounted on the roof of the garage shone weakly down on the sloppy mix of gravel and mud that was our yard, and I could hear the excited barks of Munchkin, our rescue puppy. He was a mix of German Shepherd and Cane Corso, with some variety of northern dog thrown in, and he was mighty pleased to see me. I'm glad that someone was. I came into our small three-bedroom rental to find Sharon and Lane sitting at the dining room table working on his math homework. I wish that they reacted like Munchkin when they saw me, but Lane just grunted a hello, while Sharon looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Mary is out with the McDougal brothers again. They showed up here a half hour ago, I told her not to go with them, but she wouldn't listen." "The McDougal brothers are assholes," was Lane's addition to the conversation, without even looking up from the table. He wasn't wrong. The oldest McDougall brother, Calum, was a couple of years ahead of me at school and was a bully and a braggart. Two of his three brothers had followed in his esteemed footsteps, while the jury was still out on the youngest, James. "I'm going to go get her. Next time that those boys turn up in our yard, let Munchkin lose on them." "Alright, dinner will be in the oven when you get back. Given 'em hell, Bro." The McDougal brothers lived just outside Pellston in the closest thing to a mansion that you could find in our neck of the woods. Their family owned the largest construction and maintenance company in the area and had most of the Public Works contracts sown up, along with a not inconsiderable portion of the private construction in our region as well. Their parents spent most of their time in Sarasota, Florida, though, and the brothers had free rein while they were gone. As I drove up their long, paved driveway, automatic floodlights came on, illuminating the ostentatious columns that flanked the entrance to their house. I parked in front of the nearest bay of their four-car attached garage while noting that there was another three-car garage further off to the right. I idly wondered who got to park in which garage. Rich people problems, I guess. I walked to the front door and let myself in. From the foyer, I could hear the loud thump of music coming from the back of the house, so I headed that way. As I passed through the kitchen, I nearly bumped into James, who was holding a couple of empty serving bowls. He stopped dead when he saw me, looking nervous, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in their house. Certainly not me, anyway. "Hey James, I am here to get my sister. Where is she?" He hesitated a moment before pointing toward the back of the house. "She's in the game room playing pool with the guys. We didn't force her to come here or anything, if that's what you're worried about." "Maybe that's true, James. But you know she is still a minor, and I am her guardian, so I'm going to fetch her and bring her home." James didn't like the sound of that, but I turned my back on him and followed the music to a large, sunken room at the back of the house, which had an expensive-looking pool table in the middle. The remaining McDougal brothers were either playing pool or smoking up on one of the couches that were scattered around the outside of the room. Calum was presiding over the festivities, while the Pistons game was playing on a wall-mounted TV that was bigger than some movie screens. Despite his family's blue-collar roots, Calum looked like an overgrown frat boy, with his preppy clothes and fifty-dollar haircut. Mary was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, with a McDougal brother on one side and one of their hangers-on on the other. She looked somewhere between uncomfortable and scared, but she gave me a defiant scowl. The music stopped, and everyone looked to Calum and then back at me. There was a nervous tension in the air. "Hi Calum, I'm here for my sister." Calum was now in a bit of a spot; he couldn't just let me come into his home and give him orders without losing face with his brothers and their cronies. But he also knew, or at least suspected, that my sister was underage. And then there was always the Pipe Wrench Incident. That always made people nervous to be around me. "That's not my problem. She told my brother that she wanted to party, so she's here to party. No one forced her to come, and she seems to be having a good time." I wondered if all of Calum's dates looked as scared and uncomfortable as Mary did at that moment when they were having a 'good time'. "Well, since she is still a minor and I'm her guardian, it's a bit of a problem. Or it could be. But I don't want to put a damper on your evening, so I'll just bring Mary home with me and we'll call it a night." Calum looked toward James who had just come back into the room with bowls now filled with potato chips. "Is that true, Limp dick? Did you bring an underage girl home to party with us?" James began to sputter before Calum shook his head in disgust. He pointed over at Mary. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sixteen," he said before turning back to me. "And you. Just get the fuck out of our house." It was a silent drive home. Mary refused to even look at me, staring out the window instead. When we pulled into our yard, Munchkin came running up to greet us, and Mary finally spoke. "You didn't need to embarrass me like that. I'm old enough to make my own choices, you know." "The law says you're still a minor. And you'll always be my sister. Those guys are no good, Mary. You know that." "James is different. He isn't like the rest of them." "Maybe that's true, or maybe not. But you don't hang out in a nest of rattlesnakes, just because there is a garter snake in there with them that you think is cute." After a pause and some continued barking from Munchkin, Mary finally looked over at me. "You're not my dad, you know. You can't tell me what to do." And there it was. It always came down to the same thing with Mary; her father's rejection of her. Over the years, it had undermined her self-esteem and destroyed her self-worth to the point where I wondered if they would ever recover. Unfortunately, I was just smart enough to see the problem, but I had no idea how to fix it. A brother's love can only go so far, I guess. "I know, Mary. I know. But I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I just wish that was enough." We sat in silence for another minute before she replied. "I wish it was too." Chapter 2. It took a couple of days for Mrs. Anderson's new radiator line to arrive, and I gave her a call when I went to pick it up. "Hi, Mrs. And; Wilma. I was just picking up the replacement line for your radiator, and I was wondering if you needed anything else from town, while I'm here. I was going to come by and install the line later this afternoon if that works for you." "That's very kind of you, Davis. Would you mind picking up a few groceries for me? I can send the store a list, so they will be ready for you when you get there." A couple of my calls that day took longer than expected, so it was late in the afternoon again by the time I made it to Wilma's place. The early season snow had mostly melted away, and her yard was now a combination of gravel and thick soupy mud that could swallow a tire as easily as it could swallow a boot. "Thank you for picking the groceries up for me, you're too kind." "It was no trouble at all, especially since I was coming out this way anyway. If you don't mind me asking, how do you usually get them?" "I used to have a young man up the way who would help me with groceries and yard work, and other small things, but now I am pretty much on my own." "What happened to him? Did he move away?" "No, he still lives in the same place that he always has, but I am pretty sure that my family paid him more not to help me than I was paying for his assistance." "What? That seems like a crappy thing for them to do to you." Wilma gave a resigned sigh and then offered me a coffee while she told me her story. "I think I told you the last time you were here, that most of my family has moved on from this place, except my granddaughter Erin. The rest of them already have an agreement in place with a developer, the McDougals, to turn this property into a high-end resort for the Fudgies, so they have someplace to spend their money after visiting Mackinac Island." "Fudgies," was what the locals called the tourists from down south who descended on the upper peninsula in the summer. "If you don't mind me asking, just how much land do you own?" "Well, Phillip and I didn't have much to spend our money on over the years, so we bought up many of the nearby properties when they went up for sale. We ended up with at least a quarter mile of land that fronts onto the lake, without even really trying." I let out a low whistle. "That must be worth a small fortune. I can understand your family's interest." "At first, they didn't care if I stayed in the house after Phillip died. They figured that I would follow soon enough. After a few years, however, they started to get impatient, and it's fair to say that they are now actively encouraging me to leave, by foot, by car, or in a box. They have generously offered to put me out to pasture in a warehouse for the old and infirm, though, to await my impending doom. "With my cancer, their wish is finally going to come true. By this time next year, I will be sipping coffee with Phillip in whatever afterlife we atheists get to enjoy. Actually, who am I kidding? If there is an afterlife for Phillip and me, the first thing I'm going to do when I get there is get on my knees, undo his belt buckle, and then show him just how much I've missed him these past five years. Wilma looked a bit startled as if she had just remembered that I was still there. "I'm sorry, Davis. You probably didn't need to hear that last part. I just miss him so much. I still see him in the trees and along the shore, and I sometimes hear his voice in the wind off the lake." "It's all good, Wilma. I just hope that my brother and sisters get to experience the kind of love that you and Phillip had someday." "What about you, Davis? Don't you deserve to experience that kind of love as well?" "Maybe I deserve it, Wilma, but I don't think I am going to find it. It's been tough; real tough, looking after my family all these years. I have done things that I am not proud of, but that needed to be done. I don't regret them; I would do anything to protect the people I love. But I doubt that anyone would be able to love me, once they found out what I've done." "I think you are selling yourself short, Davis. We are all artists, and we are all worthy of love." With that, Wilma offered to top up my coffee before I started replacing the broken line. As the evening's shadows deepened, I saw her watching me with compassion and concern in her eyes. Once I was finished, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it an empathetic squeeze. "A penny for your thoughts?" I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her. "It's my sister, Mary. I am losing her. She is so hurt and angry that she is beginning to make bad choices, and I don't know how to help her. I've tried to be her brother, parent, and friend, but I'm failing at all three." Wilma offered no judgment, good or bad. She just listened, and when I finished, she spoke. "Bring her over this Sunday around noon. Tell her to wear some old clothes that she doesn't mind getting dirty. You can come too if you would like and bring your little brother to do some fishing, but Mary will be spending her time with me." It wasn't easy convincing Mary to come to Wilma's. If you have spent time dealing with teenage girls, you know that they can be as stubborn as late-season ice on the lake. In the end, I resorted to threats and bribery to get her onboard, but she assured me that she would hate every minute she was there. Lane came with us as well, with the promise that we could spend the afternoon fishing off the end of Wilma's dock. By the time we arrived, Mary was sullenly glued to the passenger seat and wouldn't look up from her phone. Wilma waited a few minutes for Mary, but she stubbornly refused to leave the truck. Eventually, Wilma pulled on her rubber boots and walked over to the truck. She looked up at Mary and started speaking. "There are three things that I know are true. "The first, I've already shared with your brother. We are all artists because we are all worthy of love. But many of us lose our way. We are hurt and abandoned, and we are buried in shame. I was like that for many years. But my husband, Phillip, found me and taught me what it is to be loved. Not just the physical act; although he taught me about that as well; but the certainty that I was seen, known, and cherished. He showed me that I am an artist. You are an artist too. "Second, I am old, I have cancer, and I will die. Not today, and hopefully not tomorrow, but soon. And that is okay; we all die. I have lived a good life. And when I do, I hope that Phillip will be waiting for me with a glass of chilled white wine and his beautiful smile. My art may linger for a while once I am gone but, eventually, it too will be lost. "Third, the world is full of bastards. Your brother tells me that you and he are both bastards. I will tell you a secret that I have shared with very few people; I am a bastard too. "My mother was beautiful but poor. Her parents lost everything during the Great Depression, and she worked as a housemaid for a rich and powerful man to support her family. When she fell pregnant, he put her out on the street and refused to recognize her child, his daughter; me. Because of his rejection, I spent too many years steeped in shame and self-loathing. But eventually, I learned a hard truth; my father was a bastard by choice, while I was a bastard by birth. And those of us who are bastards by birth must never let the bastards by choice win. "Come inside when you're ready. I'm too old and it's too cold for me to stand here waiting for you." With that, Wilma turned and slowly made her way back to the house. Surprisingly, after a minute, Mary followed. When they reached the door, Wilma turned to look back at me. "It's time for you boys to go fishing. There is a warm breeze off the lake that will bring you good luck." Lane and I made our way down the hill to the dock in silence, our fishing rods, ice chest, and tackle box in hand. Unlike a seasonal dock that would be taken out of the lake each fall, Wilma's dock could be used year-round and was built with heavy timbers and steel bracing, so it could withstand the crushing force of the winter's ice. When we reached the dock, we felt the warm wind that Wilma had promised, and we chose our lures and began to cast. After a half hour of fishing, Lane broke the silence. "Do you think it's my fault?" "Do I think what's your fault, Bud?" "That mom left us. That she never came back. Do you think it's my fault?" I sighed as I thought about my answer. "No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, really, maybe not even hers. It's funny though, she brought some amazing people into this world. I wish she could have seen how incredible you and your sisters have turned out. But she made her choice, and that's on her, not you." Lane thought about my answer before he continued. "But you would be better off without me. Sharon would have more time to study for the scholarship she will need to get away from here. I try to be nice to Mary, to make her feel better, but I just seem to make things worse for her as well. And I see how hard you work to keep our family together. I feel like you would all be better off without me. If I weren't here, maybe Mom would come back home." I took a deep breath and tried to push down the anger that threatened to overwhelm me; anger at my mother for abandoning us, anger at myself for never being enough, and anger at a world that would leave my brother feeling like it would be better off if he didn't exist. I felt the wind off the lake as it blew across my face, drying my unshed tears before they were formed. As I was wondering how to unbreak my brother's heart, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through and Lane's fishing rod bent into a deep arc, the tip dancing wildly as a fish fought against the line. "Dad! Help;" The drag clicked furiously as the fish pulled line, as Lane fought to keep his rod tip up. I quickly set my rod aside and braced him, my hands held loosely beside his as he fought to reel in his catch. We worked together for what seemed like an eternity before he finally fought his fish to the side of the dock. I grabbed the net and saw that he had hooked a steelhead trout that was easily two feet long and must have weighed at least eight pounds if not more. It was a wonder the drag held steady, and his line didn't break during the fight. As I scooped up his catch, the steelhead's silver sides shimmered like polished chrome in the fading light, and it was so big that it took up over half the ice chest I had brought along to store our catch. Lane was flushed with excitement at landing such an impressive fish, and I was so proud of him that my heart almost ached. "Nice work, Son." He just looked up at me for a moment before throwing his arms around me in a hug. In the time since our mother left, he had never called me by anything other than my name. I never tried to be his dad; I didn't think I was qualified, but I guess that all of us need someone in our lives who will love us without conditions or end. "Never think that you're a burden on me or the family. Maybe you need a bit more from us right now than you can give back, but that's alright. Because sixty years from now, when I am old and can't wipe my ass anymore, you are going to be paying me back in spades, alright?" With that, we went back to fishing in companionable silence. I pulled in a few smaller ones, but nothing to match Lane's steelhead. A few hours later, the wind had picked up and it was getting colder, so we packed up our equipment and made our way back toward the house. Halfway down the dock, however, a huge gust of wind swept through, and I heard a cry followed by a loud splash. Turning back, I saw that Lane's foot had slipped through a broken slat, and he had fallen off the dock. Without thinking, I dropped the ice box and rods and jumped into the water to help him. When I got him to shore, he couldn't put any weight on his ankle, and any efforts to do so were met with cries of pain. I quickly collected our discarded fishing gear and set it to one side, before helping him to slowly make his way back up the hill. The November chill quickly took hold of us as we walked, plastering our damp clothing to our skin, and we were shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached the house. I knocked but it took a minute for Wilma and Mary to come out from the studio at the back of the house. "I am sorry to cut things short, but Lane had an accident down at the dock and he sprained or maybe even broke his ankle. I am going to have to take him to the hospital in Petoskey to get it looked at before it swells up any further." Wilma looked at me with concern. "Maybe you should hold off at least for a little while. My granddaughter, Erin, the pediatrician, is coming for dinner tonight and should be here any minute. Why don't we let her take a look at it before you head into town? And let's get you out of those clothes; you must be freezing. I still have some of Phillip's things in the closet that might fit you." A few minutes later, I had changed into a pair of comfortable but slightly musty-smelling pants, with a warm sweater over a well-worn collared shirt. I was both taller and wider than Phillip had been, at least in the twilight of his years, so the pants were a bit short, while the sweater was tight across my shoulders. While I changed, Mary and Wilma had set Lane up on the couch with his ankle elevated on some pillows. I helped him change out of his wet clothing and into an old sweatshirt and shorts that fit over his swollen ankle. Once Lane was settled, Wilma and I talked quietly in the kitchen. "It's getting late, and you must be getting hungry, but I don't think I have enough to feed everyone." I thought for a moment. "We may be in luck. Lane caught the biggest steelhead I have ever seen earlier this afternoon, but I left it down by the dock after the accident. If you have a few potatoes and maybe a veg or two, I am sure I can whip something up that would feed us all." Wilma looked at me with a sly smile. "He cooks, he plumbs, and he cares for his family, all while cutting a dashing figure in my late husband's favorite sweater. You, Mr. Crawford, are a catch." "I am not sure about that, Wilma," I replied with a laugh, "But either way, this catch had better go and get our earlier catch, so I can get started on dinner." It took me almost half an hour to collect our fishing gear and bring it back up to the truck. By the time I was done, an older SUV was parked behind my truck, which meant that Erin had arrived. After I loaded the gear, I used the fishing knife and stained plastic cutting board that I kept in a bin under the back seat to clean and filet the steelhead before heading inside. From the doorway, I could see a head of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail sticking up from the far side of the couch, and I heard a calm and melodic voice talking to Lane while Wilma and Mary looked on. I was so lost in that voice that I almost jumped when the latch on the door caught behind me. The head of sandy-blonde hair looked up at the sound, revealing a pair of amber, almost golden eyes. "You must be the father," said that same melodic voice, as those eyes bore their way into my soul. "It's Davis Crawford, and I'm the older brother." "Erin Anderson, nice to meet you. Can you get hold of your parents? We might need to take Lane to the hospital for some X-rays." "No," I replied more harshly than I intended. "No," I tried again, more gently but with an edge to my voice. "Our parents aren't around; I am as close as you're going to get. I am Lane's legal guardian if that helps." There was a slight pause as her amber eyes shifted from surprise to curiosity. "That helps a lot. Why don't you give me 15 minutes or so to take a look at this brave dude's ankle, then we can talk over some options, once I have a better sense of what's going on." "That okay with you, Bud?" I asked as I walked over to the couch. "Yeah, that should be fine," he replied, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. For a moment, I was worried that he might be running a fever, but then I got my first look at Erin, and I understood. Maybe she wasn't classically beautiful like a movie star or swimsuit model, but she was lean and fit, and from what I could see, had more than enough curves in all the right places. It was her face, however, that captured me. She had delicate features accentuated by her high cheekbones, and there was a softness to her expression that spoke of empathy and kindness. Her eyes, though intense, had a warmth that put me instantly at ease. I realized much too late that I had been staring at Erin for an uncomfortably long time while holding the bag of steelhead filets out like some kind of sacrificial offering. While I stood frozen, the look in Erin's beautiful eyes had shifted from curiosity to amusement; I would assume at the fish-carrying simpleton standing in front of her. "Thanks, Dr. Anderson; err, Erin. I appreciate your taking a look at him and; I am going to go cook us up some fish before I make an even bigger ass of myself." Wilma joined me in the kitchen, while Erin continued to assess Lane's injured ankle. We spent the next few minutes dicing the potatoes and veggies and tossing them with some olive oil, salt, and pepper before sprinkling the filets of steelhead with a mixture of herbs. I topped the fish with some slices of a less-than-fresh, but still edible, lemon I found in the fridge, before putting the whole thing in the oven. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

En 2022, Marjorie achète un SUV d'occasion 11.990€ à un professionnel. Et, tout de suite, elle le regrette. En un an, elle dépense 7.512€ de réparation pour, au final, se retrouver avec un véhicule toujours en panne ! En mai 2025, le vendeur est condamné à reprendre la voiture et à verser 20.101€. Malheureusement, malgré l'intervention d'un commissaire de justice, elle ne récupère rien. En revanche, elle apprend que 300 autres personnes se plaindraient des services de cette société ! Au micro d'Eugène Duval, un membre de l'équipe de "Ça peut vous arriver" revient sur les négociations difficiles et les moments off de ces 2h d'antenne !Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

The show starts off with Sami's review of the 2026 Chrysler Pacifica AWD, which boasts a peachy engine and cool seats that can hide away for more storage as needed, but Sami points out there are more than a few concerns with the American company's minivan, and it may be starting to feel a bit old these days. Then Benjamin reviews the 2026 Honda Odyssey, which he pilots through a pair of hefty snowstorms. Though it lacks the all-wheel-drive and versatile seats of the Pacifica, he has more than few reasons to recommend this mighty minivan. Finally, Benjamin regales us with a tale of a near-death experience that he almost forgot about until reminded by Sami and a Facebook memory. Thanks for listening!!

This week on America on the Road, guest co-host Matt DeLorenzo joins Jack Nerad as they look at a packed slate of automotive news, two major road tests, and a special design-focused interview. Jack drives the range-topping 2026 Hyundai Palisade Calligraphy, while Matt reviews the redesigned 2026 Volkswagen Tiguan, a compact SUV with more power, more tech, and a more refined cabin than ever before. Jack also sits down with Ian Cartabiano, President of Calty Design, to talk about Toyota's long-running design studio, its newest work, and how design thinking translates into the next generation of vehicles.

PREVIEWIn today's  episode KJ and Jim bring you the week's trending crime related headlines including family suing Royal Caribbean Cruise Line after a man allegedly served 33 drinks dies aboard the cruise ship. In Arkansas where a mother and her twins are found dead amid a very messy divorce and custody battle with her estranged partner who is a prominent doctor in the area.In Louisiana, a 10-year-old boy jumped from a vehicle after a carjacker takes his parents SUV.They go to Florida and discuss murder charges for two teenagers in connection to the death of a 14-year-old girl. In New Jersey a Santa performer and former elementary school teacher is arrested for possession of child sex abuse image. In South Carolina, drugs and crab legs were on the menu for inmates who were delivered a feast via drone right to their prison pretty wild story, and another Louisiana prison escape this time in Saint Landry Parish. These stories and much more today on Crime Wire Weekly!Links to Follow Crime Wire Weekly  https://linktr.ee/crimewireweekly

In the Electrek Podcast, we discuss the most popular news in the world of sustainable transport and energy. In this week's episode, we discuss a very telling Tesla Optimus fail, Rivian's AI/Autonomy day, Mercedes GLB EV, and more. The show is live every Friday at 4 p.m. ET on Electrek's YouTube channel. As a reminder, we'll have an accompanying post, like this one, on the site with an embedded link to the live stream. Head to the YouTube channel to get your questions and comments in. After the show ends at around 5 p.m. ET, the video will be archived on YouTube and the audio on all your favorite podcast apps: Apple Podcasts Spotify Overcast Pocket Casts Castro RSS We now have a Patreon if you want to help us avoid more ads and invest more in our content. We have some awesome gifts for our Patreons and more coming. Here are a few of the articles that we will discuss during the podcast: Tesla Optimus robot takes a suspicious tumble in new demo Tesla US sales drop to under 40,000 units following tax credit expiration, lowest in years Tesla CEO Elon Musk claims driverless Robotaxis coming to Austin in 3 weeks Rivian AI & Autonomy Day: In-house silicon chip, next-gen AI platform, LiDAR for Level 4 self-driving [Video] Subaru's new electric SUV delivers over 300 miles range and it starts at under $35,000 The Mercedes GLB is back as an electric SUV and it's better in just about every way [Images] Global EV sales jump 21% in 2025 as Europe surges and the US stalls Ford and SK On kill massive $11.4B US battery joint venture, split factories between them Here's the live stream for today's episode starting at 4:00 p.m. ET (or the video after 5 p.m. ET: https://www.youtube.com/live/ZM1kpEBNtak

*Preview*In today's  episode KJ and Jim bring you the week's trending crime related headlines including family suing Royal Caribbean Cruise Line after a man allegedly served 33 drinks dies aboard the cruise ship. In Arkansas where a mother and her twins are found dead amid a very messy divorce and custody battle with her estranged partner who is a prominent doctor in the area.In Louisiana, a 10-year-old boy jumped from a vehicle after a carjacker takes his parents SUV.They go to Florida and discuss murder charges for two teenagers in connection to the death of a 14-year-old girl. In New Jersey a Santa performer and former elementary school teacher is arrested for possession of child sex abuse image. In South Carolina, drugs and crab legs were on the menu for inmates who were delivered a feast via drone right to their prison pretty wild story, and another Louisiana prison escape this time in Saint Landry Parish.These stories and much more today on Crime Wire Weekly!Links to Follow Crime Wire Weekly  https://linktr.ee/crimewireweeklyBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/exposed-scandalous-files-of-the-elite--6073723/support.

Late night Taylor Swift...it was the pop star's much anticipated appearance on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, she made mouths drop in a dramatic burgundy velvet mini dress, and they weren't taking any chances when it came to her safety. She arrived in a bulletproof SUV. And it's been three months since the shocking assassination of Charlie Kirk. Today the 22-year suspect accused of gunning down the father of two made his first in-person appearance in court. Plus, quiet down! Some residents in Santa Barbara, California are less than thrilled about Elon Musk launching Space X rockets from a nearby base...it's so loud, houses are shaking. Now Grammy nominated singer Charlie Puth, who is prepping to sing at the Super Bowl, is sending a message directly to Musk saying the sonic booms are bothering his pregnant wife. And shocking accusations about The University of Michigan's now former football coach. He was just fired. Now he's been detained and put in protective custody by mental health professionals after the married father of three was accused of having an inappropriate relationship with a staffer.  To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

A fire-watch worker from Oregon shares one of the most compelling Bigfoot encounters ever recorded in the Umpqua National Forest. In this episode, a witness describes discovering a massive Bigfoot handprint on her SUV after a terrifying night on Quartz Mountain, where her dogs reacted violently to something unseen in the dark.She also recounts past encounters across Tiller, Drew, and the Diamond Lake region—including seeing a towering figure cross the road, experiencing powerful tree knocks deep in the forest, and hearing chilling vocalizations no known animal could produce.This episode dives into:• Bigfoot handprint evidence in Oregon• Witness encounters in the Umpqua National Forest• Activity around Quartz Mountain, Diamond Lake, Tiller & Drew• Tree knocks, vocalizations, and forest behavior patterns• Generational logging-community stories of Sasquatch• Native perspectives on “things that don't want to be found”

Witnesses claim that ICE ran over a man’s legs with an SUV, but DHS denies the allegations. A Seattle sushi restaurant was scammed out of a full day’s worth of profits. A new poll found that RFK Jr. is one of the most popular political figures in the United States. // LongForm: GUEST: UW atmospheric scientist Cliff Mass on what we should expect from the impending atmospheric river. // Quick Hit: Congresswoman Ilhan Omar says that Somalis are victims in the Minnesota fraud scandal.

1DullGeek casually announces he's signed a contract for a Czech-built TL Sparker and will spend a month in Prague building it – because apparently "24 cubic feet of cargo space" (more than his compact SUV!) justifies international aircraft construction. The only minor detail? He has absolutely nowhere to hangar this composite beauty that "costs more than his house." Cue the deep dive into "Hangar Hell" – where waiting lists stretch to 2038, car detailing businesses occupy hangars, and Mark realizes he's been "a wholesale menace in every capacity to an airport." Meanwhile, Brian's gone full on into written tests, knocking out instrument ground instructor and fundamentals of instruction in two weeks because "the sponginess of my brain is kind of working at the moment." Plus: heated seats, cup holders, and the eternal question of whether N633K (a.k.a. "N-GEEK") will ever see the inside of an actual hangar.Upcoming Event:The Thaden Invasion Fly-In - March 13-15, 2026, Bentonville, Arkansas (VBT)RSVP at midlifepilotpodcast.com - "If half the RSVPs show up, we're gonna have a real good time. If more than half show up, it'll be a disaster."Support the Show:Patreon Community Merch Store Website: midlifepilotpodcast.comMentioned on the show:* Mark's new plane, TL Sparker: https://tlsportaircraft.com/sparker/* Risen Aircraft: https://www.flyrisen.com/* Roy "Deacon" Qualls, Pilot's Edge: Think, Train, and Fly Like a Pro: https://amazon.com/dp/B0FY26ZJJM* CGI, Cape Girardeau Regional Airport: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Girardeau_Regional_Airport* Garmin GNC355: https://www.garmin.com/en-US/p/689774/

Anna Kepner was 18 years old — a cheerleader from Titusville, Florida with plans to join the Navy. On November 7th, 2025, her body was found stuffed under a bed on the Carnival Horizon cruise ship, wrapped in a blanket and covered with life vests. Her death has been ruled a homicide by mechanical asphyxiation. The only suspect: her 16-year-old stepbrother, who was sharing that cabin with her. But this story isn't just about what happened in that room. It's about what's happening to the family left behind. Anna's father Christopher married the stepbrother's mother less than a year before Anna died. This wasn't a family with deep roots — it was a family still figuring itself out. Now the grandmother says she can't accuse the boy because she doesn't know what happened, but admits "the summation would be that he did something." The stepmother is trying to seal court records and delay hearings. The father was subpoenaed to testify and didn't answer the door — his SUV running in the driveway, lights on inside, a No Trespassing sign posted. Anna's biological mother says she was told not to come to the funeral. She showed up anyway, in disguise. The FBI has said nothing publicly. No charges have been filed. The stepbrother was hospitalized after the cruise, is now living with a relative, and reportedly told investigators he doesn't remember what happened. Everything we know about this case has come from a custody battle between the suspect's parents — not from law enforcement. And if charges are ever filed against a juvenile, the case may be sealed forever. This is a family that can't grieve together and can't fall apart separately. They're frozen — caught between a girl who deserved justice and a boy they can't bring themselves to condemn. #AnnaKepner #CarnivalCruise #TrueCrime #CruiseShipMurder #FBIInvestigation #CarnivalHorizon #TitusvilleFlorida #JusticeForAnna Want to comment and watch this podcast as a video? Check out our YouTube Channel. https://www.youtube.com/@hiddenkillerspod Instagram https://www.instagram.com/hiddenkillerspod/ Facebook https://www.facebook.com/hiddenkillerspod/ Tik-Tok https://www.tiktok.com/@hiddenkillerspod X Twitter https://x.com/tonybpod Listen Ad-Free On Apple Podcasts Here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/true-crime-today-premium-plus-ad-free-advance-episode/id1705422872

Spike and the crew name their Car of the Year winner, discuss the "Maggot of the Year" nominees, and review impressive new vehicles including the Rivian R1S and Pagani Utopia manual. Plus, they react to a bizarre news story about an eagle dropping a cat through a windshield and debate South Australia's new supercar license requirements. ______________________________________________