I am driving in the M City like country, looking for something to do; I'm bored. I stop and get out and walk up a dry, dusty road and look at some old broken down buildings that have historical significance. They are beautiful (or were) Victorian houses that will be refurbished by a wealthy family and I am looking at a history book and then at the houses. I recognize the trees, oddly shaped like my doodles on paper, dry, old and broken. I am impressed with the houses and how wonderful they will look when refurbished. I realize I had forgotten, or chosen not to ride, my wheelchair and I walk back to get it. I stand for a while spacing out and then walk back to see the houses. I realize I had forgotten again to get my chair and walk back and open the passenger door and slide in. Lance rushes up and gets in the driver's side (Lance is black and used to be the city manager assistant to the disability rights city group). I am startled and then laugh as I had tried to slide across to the driver's seat, only he was there. I say, "Oh, I knew you had gotten in, but, out of habit, I was going to slide over to drive." He smiles and says he needs to take the car and go into town to find some information. I am a bit annoyed because he's not asking, just assuming it will be OK to appropriate my car, but I go along with it because it seems interesting. He drives and we talk companionably. He's married and talks about his children. We pull up to a redneck bar and walk in and lean up to the bar. A redneck man on our right says, "Well, well, look here. A lesbian, and a black man." I say, "Uh oh," and we start sidling out of the bar to avoid a fight. We quickly run to the car, and I lock the door on my side, check the lock in the back and unlock the driver's side for Lance. He hops in and almost hits a car parked nearby on the road. We go around it and drive fast. Soon we are in M City like country again and I see Native Americans putting up a tent or teepee. I say with regret, "I missed the powwow this year." Lance leans over and starts to kiss my sleeve affectionately in sympathy, but remembers he's married. I think the gesture is sweet. Lance decides he's going to drive to a man's house and get information on documents he wants. We pull up to a gate, near where the country fair is usually held, supposedly. An Indian man waves us to stop to be inspected. He points demandingly at where we should stop, on the gate like cow threshold. We do. I look up the road and see a group of mobster types eyeing us suspiciously. I say to Lance, "I'd better stay in my wheelchair (manual) so they won't get confused and suspicious." He agrees. We are given permission to enter to get the important information.