Mark, Scott and I are partying, drinking Coors beer (in the tall tan can) in the car. Mark is driving, and he's pretty toasted. I'm in the back seat, passenger side, and Scott is in the front. I have one beer, but I'm not drunk. Mark is getting crazy, swerving and yelling and having a great time.

An ice cream truck pulls up beside us to pass, and the girl riding in the back obviously sees what is going on. Then I see her discretely pull out her cell phone and make a call. I suspect she reported us to the police.

I have a large pitcher full of dark, sweet iced tea. I'm trying to get us all to drink it instead of beer, but it's swishing and spilling and Mark wants more beer anyway. I see a motorcyle cop drive by on an intersecting road, lights flashing, and I expect he's looking for us but didn't see us.

Mark's driving is becoming more erratic. He's sideswiped a few cars but he keeps going. Suddenly a car is in his path, and he hits it, destroying our car to the point where it can't drive because the front is all smashed. We all scatter to get away from the cops.

I run back to what I believe is Mark's house, but I think we're in Seattle. I realize that I've forgotten where Timmy is, whether he was in the car with us or whatever. My car is back at the house, and I open the hatch, and Timmy and Charlie are in there, and very happy to see me. It's somewhat hot in the car, though not dangerous. Both dogs appear to be the same size, and move in the same way. They lay on their backs for me to scratch their bellies.

I am thinking about whether I have two leashes in the car to take them both for a walk (I always have a metal one in the car for emergencies, and I would usually bring another on a car trip), when suddenly two police cars pull up. The cops get out and one asks if they can come in and ask a few questions. I think about telling them that I need to take care of the dogs, but decide that they'll be ok, it'll just be a few minutes, so I close up the car and we go inside.

Once in the house, which I believe to be Mark's, one cop starts poking around and looking at everything, while the other shows me an evidence bag containing a corner of the envelope of a letter from Mark to me. It's got sort of graffiti on it, silly one-liners and stuff. I realize that these cops are from Portland on a different mission, not those chasing us for our driving adventures.

The cop asks me if I recognize the envelope, and I say not specifically, but it's not unusual. He says he should have been more suspicious of this character, should have known he was on the verge of losing it.

I ask, "what, do you think he'd just go off and kill somebody or something?"