Can't Make It Up  There is a new light blue car in our driveway at home in Oak Valley. A man tries it out and says it will or should sell for $26,009.00. He notes the fluorescent lights and the plastic pieces on the interior. I don't' think the car is that nice: not with 26 thousand dollars! I'm in a car with my dad and my sister Ramona. We're going fishing. We're driving down Home Avenue going south towards Main Street. I realize that I forgot my fishing rod, and I don't have a tackle box. We're not pulling a boat. My dad says he has his rod. We don't' turn back to get mine, though we're only a block away. My dad drives through the stop sign at the railroad tracks and through another near 1st or 2nd Street south. He is going fast, accelerating. The car leaves the ground when going over the railroad tracks, and we bounce around. I verbally reprimand him for speeding and not stopping at the stop signs. It reminds me of the big black man who gave a talk at Armstrong High School about "cruising along" at 80 miles per hour. I think of the speaker's friend who died in a car crash. My dad doesn't take me seriously. I tell him I don't want him or I to get hurt. He accepts my concern more when I express it this way. He says okay, but still drives fast on a narrow road. I feel drunk. I know I couldn't control the car at this speed if I were driving this fast on these roads. I have my fishing rod. There is a bell sinker tied to the end of the line. I pull on the line, which is old and nicked up. The line snaps. I take the rod apart and pull the line off the spool. We are at a park shelter-like area. There are many wooden artifacts that seem to be antiques. We walk through this place. There is a very tall large man there in a brown cloak with big scruffy hair. He is very frightening looking. He speaks a few words, neutrally and informatively, which give me a different impression of him. I have a ring made of wood, about ten inches in diameter, with the wood about two inches in diameter. We come upon a field where there is a wooded hill on our right in front of us. My dad yells crazily at a man named Pete or Pat, who is playing ultimate Frisbee with a group of men. There are one or two small swimming pools on our left, and a steep hill in front of us. We start walking up the hill, climbing and grabbing the grass for a grip. The grass rips out, and it is very difficult to climb. I slip and fall back down. At the top are Rita Fosters, an acquaintance, her sister, and others. They are sitting on towels because they just went swimming. It is cold outside. My friend Stephanie Peterson is at the top of the hill. I try to climb up, but the grass rips out and I slide down. My old landlord Bill Miller is approaching a house, which may be our house, at the top of the hill. I really want to get to the house to see what he wants. I try to run up the hill, and fail. Stephanie slips and flips down the hill. I deftly catch her and set up upright. I want to see what Bill needs or wants, but I can't make it up the hill.