Barbara and I are travelling somewhere and get stuck or stranded in some rain, and when it's over we go up to the highway and try to walk across. Only it's muddy. We're both dressed pretty nice but it just doesn't matter any more and we go on anyway. When we step out we find it's muddier than we thought and sink a bit. Then more. Then a whole lot more, and suddenly we're up to our chests and flailing for the curb. We make it there and need help getting up over it. We hang on and yell for help - there isn't a road shoulder but a drop-off with some steps, down to the service road. And some people down below. A guy comes up to help us; somebody else helps him, they haul us up over the curb and down to the street. Then he asks us for money. We're very surprised and insulted. I give him a traveller's check, without much grace, and we go on off down the road. As we turn a corner around a store, I realize I only just handed him the check from the pack, I didn't sign it; it won't be any good. I think that's fine - we'll just disappear and he can't find us. I start hurrying, but he catches up and I have to make it good. We need a place to stay - he takes us down the street to a house where an older couple live, maybe a bed and breakfast sort of place, but there's nobody awake. He takes us in anyway, and we look around. I look in the mirror at myself and find I'm not actually covered in mud. Messy, damp, but not mud-coated.