I'm in London, out looking for the place where a friend lives - I've been staying with another friend and she's gotten a map for me over the telephone. I've come most of the way, but now I'm not sure where the turn-off is. I'm on a small, slow motorbike or Moped and it's really pretty tedious, but at least it's better than walking. But I feel kind of silly, perched up here. This street is quite long and straight, out in the suburbs, and the one I want to turn on is at right angles to it - it's quite open here, slightly rolling land, small houses and some open space between streets and the streets are wide. I make the turn but I'm not utterly positive it's the right one, and go some ways down. I get some way and decide this must not be the right street - so I turn around and go back up - it is uphill, and it takes a while. Part way back, something occurs to me, that maybe this is the right street after all, so I'll go back. But rather than turning around again (which is rather troublesome - this thing doesn't steer well), I decide to coast backwards downhill. In the rearview mirror, I see a truck coming across a vacant lot at right-angles to the street, and the lot is full of high grass and the ground is certainly not even. It's coming at a pretty fair clip and dives over a deep drop-off, sending it nose-first into the ground, and it flips over, curling up just like a truck wouldn't and back out again as it hit the ground on its back. I'm going down past it and wonder if I should go to help, but I figure people will be coming out soon anyway. As I coast down, a boy on a (bike? skateboard? something else?) is coming up the street, towards the left side, and I'm more or less on the right, but I'm finding it hard to steer and I keep veering left. As it is, I'm thinking that I'm correcting for it and I'm still veering, and he's moving left to get out of my way, and thinking surely I'll be steering to miss him, and we almost crash. I'm quite relieved that we don't, and stop a bit further down. All this has rather been enough for me, and I'm going to give the whole thing up and go home. So I ride back up the street to the one I turned off of, and look around for a telephone, thinking I'll let people know what I'm doing. [I'm not clear on whether I meant to call the person I was staying with or the person I was going to visit.] I'm no longer outdoors, now, this is a large apartment building and there's a door ajar right across from me, so I look inside. It's a sort of storeroom, no telephone, but there's another door on the left wall and a voice calls out "What do you want?" in a gruff English accent. I say I'm looking for a phone, do you know of one in this building, and realize from the sound that he's on the toilet. No wonder he's annoyed. He comes out quickly, fastening his trousers - looks like your olde-English gardener or villager, white hair and beard, hat, scarf, boots. Says there's not a public phone, I'll have to go outside.