When my mother, as yet undiagnosed with Alzheimer’s, asked me to get a pair of glasses from her purse, I stumbled upon a traffic ticket. I sighed, knowing my mother’s propensity for speeding. I scanned the summons to find how fast she was going this time. Much to my surprise she had been pulled over for going ten miles-per-hour on the middle lane of The George Washington Bridge. Rather than cutting off traffic, she had been virtually leading a parade of cars at a snail’s pace. Horns were blaring, but my mom thought there was a party going to a wedding reception.