It was an odd comment to start the weekend, but she has a point. A sparsely populated island of forests and farms seems ideal for hiding evidence from prying eyes. On the flip side, that same remote location affords some security, because human access is limited to boats and small aircraft.
We found our way to the wooded cabin via a narrow dirt road. The site was deserted except for a friendly caretaker who appeared out of nowhere and handed us an envelope that contained a key with an old, motel-style tag. Despite the horror-movie backdrop, I felt safe, even as the key to the cabin unlocked a lost memory.
Late one night during a family road trip to California, we pulled into a southern Oregon motel. At check-in, I was handed an electronic key card in a paper sleeve, with a handwritten room number.
As I opened the door, it stopped suddenly after about six inches. Without thoroughly considering the potential consequences, I stuck my hand inside and - feeling some resistance - quickly removed it as the door slammed shut: The room was occupied. The night clerk apologized profusely and found us another room. Sometimes I wonder what might have happened had that door not been chained. I'm sure the party on the other side was more freaked out than I was.
Today we have all kinds of high-tech electronic gadgetry: keyless
entry, card readers, smartphone apps, and video doorbells (that may actually increase our paranoia). I don’t know if any of these devices provide more security than an old-fashioned key and door chain, but there may be no better security than simply being isolated from others.