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Everyone has a story about him joining a crew that has lucklessly staked out a target species for two weeks, only for that creature – whether Hungarian mayfly or polar bear – to suddenly hove into view.

We could hear the car several blocks before it actually hove into sight, because it was equipped with an exhaust whistle that was allowed to function as a matter of routine.

An ungainly ship hove into view in Elliott Bay, out the window of the Seattle apartment where I moved last spring to begin reporting for the Los Angeles Times.

“Make yourself at home,” the midwife said, as I hove into the birthing room like a galleon in full sail.

And yet, as they hove – hoove? – into focus, most of these things just said: It’s good and important to talk about our sustained attempted lynching sprees.