Riding the Rich People’s Diesel Train

Yesterday I ran into an old girlfriend, Jennifer. Of note is that she hated making left-hand turns.

I dated Jennifer in the winter and spring of 1996. She was sweet and fun. She lives in California now.
I dated Jennifer in the winter and spring of 1996. She was sweet and fun. She lives in California now.

Last night on my way home from work, I stopped at Sonic to get Abby something to eat. While I was there, a diesel truck two stalls over droned the whole time.

Later, at home, I tried to lift a stone sculpture and found it almost too heavy to budge.

Then overnight…

Dream: I work for sanitation and we have just bought two mobile trash compactors. They look like army tanks painted blue, but each is of a different design. They can apparently haul thousands of tons each. At one point I see one of the compactors is hauling children to the dump.

About halfway along, the compactor I am driving gets much larger and is now owned by a millionaire. Aggravated by the constant droning from the diesel engine, the owner fires the driver and assigns me to drive it.

It becomes a train of vehicles, and is now parked inside at an apartment complex. I ask the owner to “ride shotgun” and spot my corners, and we pull out with great care.

I decide to go around the block to avoid a u-turn, but the street layout forces me to make several awkward turns. As this happens, the scale changes and I am driving inside a residential courtyard. Several times we have to stop to avoid running over rich people’s trappings, like salmon grilling or a row of 64 potted plants.

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