I'm sitting in my brother's new-ish, white Ford F-150 with a giant topper thing on the back. I turn and look back over the seat, out of the rear window, and into the bed of the truck. The top is open and the gate is down and I see my brother walking towards me...only it's my brother from the early 90's instead of my current and more up-to-date actual brother. We converse for a moment about his truck, but I can't recall any of it.
The next thing I know I'm pulling my red mustang through the service gate of Country Ford and into an endless field. Country Ford is real. It's where my mustang actually came from many many moons ago. The field behind it, however, is some made up field compiled of different parts of different fields I've been in at...different times. It feels like fall or winter. They sky is gray and the grass, apart from being cut very short...so short you can see the mud beneath it, is also that dead yellow color it becomes in winter. It's also thick...like hay. I can feel it's resistance against my shoes as I shuffle and crunch through it. A large service truck pulls up behind a clone of my brother's truck. I was looking at this truck because I simply liked looking at it. Something about it's lines appealed to me, but only aesthetically. I'm not a truck guy. The service guy, though, starts walking towards me and I realize I have to act interested so he doesn't make me leave or yell at me for being back there or something. He begins to talk about the truck...like he's going to talk it up so I'll buy it when I realize he's a service guy and not a salesman...so I can relax. Still, he starts to comment on how great it looks without the topper. I start to tell him my brother has one with the topper and he changes his story to what he thinks I want to hear and now he thinks they look better with the topper on. I tell him that I actually think my brother's looks better without it and he responds with a blank expression.
Now, we're joined by several other guys...all with late 70's era clothing on...and matching haircuts. One is in a brown, plaid, button-up shirt...only they're those metal snaps with the fake pearl insets. Another guy is in a tight yellow t-shirt with some kind of writing on it which I can't quite make out. We're chatting when out of nowhere I look up and see a tractor-trailer flying through the air. You can hear the wind blowing past it. The thing has to be 100 or more feet in the air. The cab is navy blue and the trailer is the standard aluminum color. It moves almost like a fish through the water...the trailer moving side to side like a tail. It passes us moving towards our right, continues to air-swim, tilts over to the right, then flops over on it's left side, turns, and then plummets straight down towards the ground. There is thick brush that prevents us from seeing the actual impact and there seem to be hills as well. It has to be really far away. I think we should go check on the driver even though I realize he has to be dead. I look to my left and see the dirt ramp he must have jumped. A guy on a dirtbike is jumping, but he just sort of lands in front of us and goes away. The guys I'm with comment on how stupid they are for jumping the dirt ramp.
We go into a single-wide trailer that has now appeared to our left. I don't know what we talk about, but I realize it's 4 p.m. and not only will it be dark at 5...it seems like a storm is coming and I should get home. I notice the serviceman in his blue jumpsuit sitting on a couch and drinking beer from a can. He tells me to have a good day and I ask him his name again. He says it's Mark. He is the young version of my girlfriend's dad...who I've met only once, but have seen pictures of. I tell him I'm going to look at some other trucks, talk to the sales manager, and come back next Saturday. I ask if he'll be back next Saturday and he says yes. I catch a glimpse of his expression as I leave and realize he knows I'm lying...or at least thinks something slightly negative about me.
Walking down the rickety wooden steps of the trailer I notice tractor-trailer parts stacked against it. I realize the driver must have lived and I begin to inspect the parts. There's a running board, part of the side exhaust pipe...which starts to look like a blue robot arm the longer I stare at it, a bathroom medicine cabinet that I discern came from the back living quarters of the cab, and two candelabras. I may or may not have misspelled candelabra. I'm not going to check. As I leave one of the skinny 70's hippy guys walks past me and up the stairs to the trailer. Before he dissapears into the dark doorway I realize it's Robert Plant. He's shirtless, drinking, and we have a conversation I don't understand because he's talking in rock song howls and zeeba zabba sounds.
Walking back to my car I notice a weird rubber shape on the ground. I realize it's a flattened, child's, Halloween pirate costume hat. I notice a large metal building and then I'm awakened by my alarm clock.