Looks like we got ourselves a convoy Griz is driving some sort of convertible sports car and is in the lead. Mom and Dad are bringing up the rear in a sedan. Andy's driving the school-bus-like van in between the two. All three vehicles are tearing down the hot, dusty highway. I'm not sure where we are or where we are headed. I'm even less sure why, in the seat behind me, is a person named Kevin that looks strikingly familiar.

I can't really tell who else is on the van, but I do know that it is packed. Standing room only. Strangely enough, I am standing.

As we pass a roadside flea market, I hear someone shout out "that looks like a good one"! And as I turn to lay eyes on what might possibly be a "good one", I find my brain processing our van careening out of the path of the soon to be multiple car pile up on the road in front of us.

As the van swerves to avoid the metal carnage, my body is sent flying towards one of the windows. But instead of smacking into it, causing great bodily harm, I can see all the correct angles. Almost "Matrix" like, I slide through the window, past the smoking tires, hitting the dirt shoulder of the road and rolling until I come to a stop, face down on the dusty ground.

Picking myself up, I walk towards the vegetable stand to purchase two tomatoes. As I am reaching for my wallet, I hear the horns of the caravan as they are rolling on down the road, away from the produce vendor. But the horns never stop. The cars keep getting further and further away, but the horns get louder.

Then I rolled over, turned off the annoying BEEP of the alarm clock, got out of bed, and headed for the shower.  ¶ 6:30 AM