“My dad owns every law firm in this province,” the lawyer’s daughter laughed after ramming her brand-new Tesla into my old Subaru

Lululemon from top to bottom as if the parking lot of the Loblaws on Bank Street in Ottawa was her personal runway. Her sunglasses reflected half the lot back at me in a glossy black mirror. The phone in her hand was already pointed outward, camera up, as though she’d been filming herself even before the collision.

“Oh my God,” she said, but it sounded continue reading …