I'm riding on a bike with my brother Steve. He's pedaling and steering, and I'm riding on the front somehow, with my feet skimming along the ground ahead of us. He keeps driving us very close to the curb, where there are leaves and debris in the gutter. I complain to Steve about this, "why can't you avoid the gutter, look what it's doing to my socks". I am wearing no shoes, only white socks, which are now dark grey and soaked. He says something dismissive, and I remark to myself about how if it was me I'd just say sure, I'll try not to do that.

We arrive at my work, a pretty far distance from where we started, but it isn't anything like my real work, it's underground. We disembark the bike into deep mud, into which I fall, plunging one arm and hand deep into the muck, but managing to keep the other clean as I struggle to my feet.

Then I realize that I didn't bring a guitar. We came here to play music. I forgot, I had taken my guitar (I think of Blackie, my old favorite guitar) home to re-string it and didn't think of bringing it back. Well, maybe there is at least an acoustic guitar or something around here, there usually is.