When the road evens out, our destination finally in view out the windshield, we follow the valets’ directions into the collection of Maseratis, Maybachs, and Porsches filling the otherwise needlessly large green lawn flanking one side of the house. The older I get, the more perplexing I find this feature of the grounds. What did Dad plan on doing out here? Play polo? Hold Coachella?
