I am the daughter of a man with a TripTik. You may not know what a TripTik is, or you may understand it to be a triptych, a work of art made up of three panels, often hinged together in a sacred altarpiece. You may be thinking of scenes of the baby Jesus attended by beasts of the field or angels with the faces of men. But what my father possessed was genuinely a TripTik—an itinerary in strip maps held together by plastic rings, enabling the user to flip from one page to the next. My father acquired the itinerary, issued by the Automobile Association, to keep his family safe on the road. He was in that respect a conventional man.