It’s as creaky as the cheap RV they set out in, but the last of the Bascombe novels was delightful deja vu. While reading its pages, I met, no fooling, a Mayo neurologist who specializes in movement disorders. She envinced none of the accumulated weights from her caregiving that Bascombe carts around the upper Midwest, but an earnest love for her patients. It felt like a counterweight to this bitter, but funny and brilliant, road trip. I’ll always love Ford for putting me on to the greatest of all physician writers– Anton C of course– and for ending this series with episodes of caregiving.