I dreamed I was <yawn> working at YC Honda again. It was a slow day, so we were taking a field trip out on the town. A group of us were hanging out on the bridge just as a pride parade was scheduled to come marching through. I found myself outside of the railing in a most conspicuous spot as news cameras were poised to get footage of the event.
"Yikes!" I said out loud to no one in particular as I struggled to get myself back inside the safety of the iron bars.
It wasn't so much my fear of heights that made me retreat from my perch, but the fear of being caught on camera and becoming part of the news story of the day. I wasn't sure how they would spin it, but it would probably not be favorable either way:
"Protester or supporter? Man falls from bridge on Gay Day" or "We've done a little digging, and here's what we've uncovered on dead Pride Day Bridge Guy."
I don't know what I was doing on the bridge, but I wasn't aware there was a march scheduled, so I really wasn't there to protest or support anything. I was just being dumb and clowning around. On a bridge. On Gay Day.
After returning to the safety of the group, I went with them back to work, got into my old black '79 Datsun pickup and headed up Hwy 99. I was between Yuba City and Live Oak, doing about 60, when I got the urge to put the seat back a little. I pulled the lever and suddenly found myself lying flat on my back, staring straight up at the sky. Remarkably, I was still going straight while maintaining my speed and staying in my lane.
I pulled myself back into an upright position and kept driving. Still not satisfied with the seat position, I tried this maneuver several more times with similar results before I finally gave up the notion. I stopped in Live Oak, pulling into a random driveway, where I guess I intended to relieve myself in the corner of someone's garage. Unfortunately, I'd only gotten about halfway done when I was spied by one of the members of the household.
I zipped up and tried to conceal a wet spot on the front of my pants, hoping to get out of there before I was noticed, but it was too late.
"Is that you, Sparky?" A familiar voice came from inside the garage. It was David Chanh.
"Oh, hey, David," I replied casually. "I was just having a little car trouble, so I thought I'd stop by for a quick pit stop."
He made no mention of my urinary indiscretion, and after telling him about my harrowing experience with the seat, we proceeded to look over my truck to see if we could determine the cause of the malfunction.
That's about all I've got. Sorry to abandon the story just when it wasn't going anywhere, but I do have to get up and pee, so that's that.
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.