I've just bought a new car, the second one lately. I just got one last week, and for some reason it unexpectedly exploded into a million tiny pieces. I got my money back and used it to buy this one, which is very small, like an electric car.

It can park in any spot, so I park it in an end-spot, slightly up on the curb because there isn't enough room. But I'm delighted at how I can park it there, and go into a building, like a bank. Somebody is with me, perhaps my brother Steve.

When we come out, just a few minutes later, my car at first appears to be missing. But then I notice that it is right where I left it, except it is smashed flat like a bug and a white car is parked on top of it, though driven in from the left side and resting at a steep angle. Apparently this person thought they could one-up my parking success by parking his car half on top of mine, but didn't realize my car wouldn't hold its weight.

I pull out my phone to take a picture of it, but as I'm lining up the shot the other car suddenly drives off the pile and starts driving away. I try to get a picture of his license plate as he's driving away, but quickly realize that it won't work, and yell to my friend "just memorize his plate number", and we both try to commit it to memory. Then I pull out a tiny red notebook like the one I used in Spain, and scrawl the plate number in a blank space on the page.

I think the number was VWV7, a white Oregon plate, but my friend says it started with P. No, that can't be right, I say, P sounds like V but I wouldn't mistake them when written.

I think this was on the west end of Newberg, and Minda comes to pick us up. I explain to her my bad luck with cars lately.