American Chopper dad insults me in the shower

I was in the shower, in the house I used to live in up in Paradise, when I heard someone knocking loudly at the door. They let themselves in and began talking to me from behind the shower curtain. I was a little perturbed, and I guess it showed in my voice, because the next thing he said was:

 "Maybe if you weren't such a jerk, your wife wouldn't have left you." 

He pushed the exact button to make me explode in a screaming fit of rage. I got so worked up that I could feel myself getting a sore throat from screaming. 

"Are you saying that my wife wouldn't have died from MS if it weren't for me being a jerk?" I let the words sink in, and he quickly left. 

I just knew that my sore throat in the dream was going to translate into me having one in real life. When you have to pee in a dream, usually it means you'd better get up and pee in real life. So, I expected this to be the case with the sore throat sensation, though it later proved not to be the case. 

A few minutes later, comes a contrite knock on the door. It was the same visitor who insulted me earlier, the dad from the American Chopper tv show. He was holding a pair of waffle-soled rain boots up by the laces, as if they were a peace offering. 

"I apologize," he said. 

"I accept your apology," I said. 

Then he told me what he'd originally came there to tell me, or rather show me. He had purchased a jet-ski for $500 and had it loaded on some special spring loaded trailer. It was a very unique design, one which didn't require wheels, but relied on the truck's heavy suspension to suspend the item being towed in midair. I was impressed with both the purchase and the trailer. 

He needed to move the jet-ski and get the truck backed out to clear the driveway, so he had me jump in the truck, which just happened to be rolling backward. I tried to find the emergency brake but couldn't. The service brakes required the engine to be started, and that was difficult, since I couldn't find the ignition either. 

Meanwhile, the truck was picking up speed with me in it. It was now moving too fast for me to bail out, and it was headed for a busy intersection at the bottom of the hill. I was still mad about my sore throat, and now this was happening. 

I don't know how this part resolved, but later I was back at my property with Sharon. The place was different, a kind of composite of Paradise and Loma Rica, with an added on warehouse/barn. We had all kinds of items, some junk, some useful in this open floor plan type space. 

We were discussing which things should stay or go based on their suitability for the somewhat damp indoor un-insulated environment. Sharon was ready to toss out some curio cabinets, but I suggested we just move them. I knew they were kind of cheap and would warp and decompose in the damp air but would be fine if kept a little farther from the elements. She agreed and let me keep them. 

I had a CB radio set up on a desk which I also wanted to keep but had to move out of the way of the big roll up door. We spent a lot of time deciding where to put things to maximize usage of the space and prevent blockages of traffic. 

The CB was on and I heard Triple 4, aka Dan Kirkham of Chico, arguing with someone in the distance. I tried to insert myself in the conversation, but I was the one who was too far out of range. They switched to another channel, and I followed them there and keyed up, laughing into the mike. I could tell they heard me, though we never did have an actual conversation.

We still needed to move the desk, so just about that time guess who shows up? American Chopper dad, with his truck. It had a van-like side door with a large storage area, so we lifted one edge of the desk onto it, while we held up the other side and ran alongside the truck. Not quite the easiest way to move the desk, but easier than lifting its entire weight. We deposited it nicely in the spot where it was to reside. 

There were many more things to still sort through, but Sharon wanted to get outside and feed horses. It was starting to dawn on me that her being there was a big deal and that I should just drop what I was doing and follow her around.  I guess, I was semi-aware that she was dead, so this time with her shouldn't be taken for granted. She didn't mind me puppy-dogging her while she did chores, since I guess she was aware of this too. 

Not too much else occurred. I was awakened by a robot-telemarketer, who insisted that he was a real person, just being aided by a computer for "quality purposes." Great, a cyborg was going to ask me for money. I was going to rip into him/it, but he quickly said, "No message. I'll try again later." Curses erupted from me, and now my day was officially started. 

Luckily, I still remembered most of my dream and the sore throat was not present, though I drank some water anyway.