I am driving a car, leaving an airport and going to find a hotel to stay in. My father is coming along for the ride so he can find a place too. Suddenly the road becomes graveled and the VW bus is jerked over from the right side, which is paved over a bump to a gravel road on the edge of a lake. I look in my rear view mirror on the left door quickly to see if any cars are coming. They are far back, no danger. I am amazed the sudden switch was so smooth and none of the passengers were bounced up and bumped their heads on the ceiling (like Paulina in Mexico). I drive on. We're looking for S City. I see two children playing in the lake. I say, "I think this is the wrong road." I see a hill and suggest we go up and see if that leads back to the freeway. If not, we'll turn back. I feel like it will lead us to the freeway. We get out and walk. We come to a house and open the window and step in, on the couch and antique coffee table, and as we walk through the house, a man comes from the left and says, "What are you doing?" I am embarrassed, suddenly realizing I'd entered someone's house uninvited. I explain and he says, "OK," so I go to the hill and try to walk up it. It's sandy, steep and I grab at clumps of weeds and grasses for handholds. The way is hard and I am aware of how out of shape I am! I get close to the top and see I'm not going to get to the freeway, so I return back to the house. The man walks me back the way I came. I see the front door to the right and think he'll let us out through the door, but he doesn't. He opens the window and we step around the coffee table, step on the couch and out. He says, "I am reminded of a redhead from New York," something about antique. We go on.