Two women were packing an old VW Beetle for a picnic. The older of the two women was either the young-looking mother of the other, or a wise older sister; I had no idea who these people were, but felt like a member - literally or non-literally - of the family.

I helped out with the packing, though I was tired for lack of sleep; I was sitting in the front passenger seat kibitzing during part of the loading of the picnic goods. I had no intention of going with them (too tired!) but stayed in the car anyway, moving to the rear right seat. The "mother" takes my place in the passenger seat, still carrying the conversation in her take-charge manner, as she has throughout. The younger woman will drive. Despite having loaded up the Beetle, there was still a bag in the driveway, alongside a surfboard (or canoe?) bearing other stuff; I point this out, but we don't stop to pack the items. Maybe they were left out there for some non-picnic purpose?

So, we're off. We head down the gently winding non-steep hill, and join the traffic on the expressway, which has been newly-paved and is missing the familiar striped markings; I wonder if the younger woman is having trouble navigating the unmarked road, but then my mind drifts to Everything; I wonder if I'll have the time later to post the lyrics to Elvis' "Red Shoes".

During a lull (stop light? pit stop?), talk turns to hockey; I mention that the Predators have done quite well in their 1 1/2 years of existence, and that hiring David Poile was a great move - apparently one of the two women was complaining about the team. During this lull, there's a switch: the "mother" takes over the driving, the younger moves to the back seat with me. Apparently she's tired too; she lays down in the seat, as much as one can in a Beetle, and rests her head on my left thigh. She holds on to my left arm.

We're off again, headed for the picnic site (or somewhere). My right hand rests on her sweater; I can feel, through the sweater, some sort of birth mark indentation on her skin, 2-3" below her collarbone, and about 1/3" in diameter.