Riding home

The first I remember last night, I was driving a car. It was an old car, like an old Model A, but it was smaller than normal, and it was more like a bicycle in the shape of a Model A. I was riding it home, but home was reached through the streets of LA.

I was driving along, and I saw a street sign that said something like "Wil Rogers Estates". I knew it was a "wrong turn" at the time, it wasn't where I was supposed to be but it would get me there none the less. It was a neighbourhood of moderately big houses, and as it was now evening, the lights were staring to come on. I rode further, and came to a park. In the distance, on the hills I could see big mansions with their lights on. I wanted to know what they were like inside, but at the same time I knew they were my destination. It was then that I acknowledged the "wrong turn" and knew I'd have to backtrack to find the right route. And then I noticed that there was a fence across the path, there was no way for me to get where I wanted to go by that path anyway.

My backtracking somehow found me in a house. A very nice house. It was an old fashioned place, and it seemed like an apartment or else there was a party going on. In this place I saw the floor was done in old black and white tiles, the alternating checkerboard style. Everyone was happy and friendly as I manouvered my bike/car downstairs and out to the street. I was out and riding again, headed home. For some reason I paused to look at the engine, to see if there even was one. There was, and it was the right size for the car, though the car seemed smaller than it should be, and it was red (the engine), but looked quite powerful.

And that was it.