“- Dimochka, well, it says right there that it’s to the right. – Oksana timidly handed her husband the atlas with a letter unfolded on top of the map. – Would grandfather really want to deceive? The crumpled instructions lying on the “Altai Highways” were written in large, uneven handwriting, with the spelling of a third grader, but it left no doubt. “From Malovo Utkin along the dirt road to the fork, 30 versts, then turn to the right through a clearing, you won’t get lost,” Semyon Akimovich wrote on an antediluvian notebook sheet in a cage, which especially touched his wife. Oksana demonstratively ran her even, manicured fingernail along the lines of the letter, then moved the sheet of paper and I found the location of Freelander on the map. An approximate location, of course, because the car GPS navigator couldn’t report anything intelligible for about forty kilometers...”