I'm walking thru some neighborhood -- I don't know where it is -- to a garage where some work is being done on my car. It seems this is the second car I own and I don't know why I'm walking since I have the first car. The neighborhood is a Negro neighborhood and I'm walking past a house, a red brick house, where a prominent integration leader lives. And I do something -- run around the house or something like that. I'm worried about tough gangs in the neighborhood or something and I'm standing beside the house waiting to go on and I hear a Negro boy and girl talking about whether they should move in with each other, and she's joking about how she might already be pregnant. They go on and then I go on up the street to the garage that fixed my car. I'm a little bit earlier than when I was supposed to be there. They've had the car for about 10 days, fixing my thing on it, and I start talking to one of the mechanics about the bill, and it seems I left a little reading stand there with the car. It's made out of plywood, a very simple and crude thing, and it also had a padlock and a piece of chain on it, which I used to lock my bicycle. And he was considering trading this with me in lieu of charging me for fixing the car. When he looked at the bill, the bill was $10.80 or something and the stand wasn't anywhere near worth that. In fact, I estimated in the dream that the stand was only worth about a dollar and a half. The padlock added something to its value, so I was getting ready to offer him the stand and $5 to clear the bill when he said the stand and 75 cents would be alright, so I gave him a half dollar and a quarter. Then while we were going in to get my car, he was telling me about all these other things he had found wrong, but hadn't gone ahead and repaired yet, particularly the tubing to the brakes was not in order and showed signs of going bad. We looked around and he took me to what he thought was my car and it wasn't my car. Then there was a long sequence when we were looking all over the place trying to find my car and I couldn't remember exactly what it looked like myself cause I had only had it for a few days before I took it in for repair. And I got out my registration and looked at the license number and was trying to figure out by that. Eventually I found it. It was an old car, but it wasn't anywhere near as old as the first cars he showed me, and I figured he told me about the wrong car when he told mea bout all these repairs that we needed. So I got in and started driving away in this black car. I suspect by way of representation that the car represents my thesis and my thoughts on typing it.