First: I was in South America, but it was very much like Vermont in the fall; I was on a south-facing hillside with fields of tall hay bordered by orange-leafed sugar maple trees, and it was a brisk afternoon with low sun; quite a lovely setting. I traipsed down through the grounds of a farmhouse and maybe through the house itself, down to an east-west road along a contour, east on the road, and back up the hill. More happened that I’ve forgotten. Second: I observed, as on a map or an aerial picture, a large pier at a harbor, staggered in plan and following an overall curve, where ships would back up to the pier to load or unload their cargo, and there were about 10 parallel lanes at each docking area for trucks etc. to simultaneously park at the ship. From there, I was riding east, very fast, on a limited-access highway with my parents; the south side of the road was, as we discussed in the car, a ridge made of fill from the construction of the pier. We seemed to be very low to the ground and moving very fast indeed, but remained in control, despite the additional challenge of people walking along the narrow shoulders at the side of the highway. At that point it was an altocumulus sky with the midmorning sun showing through partly and making the clouds very bright, as it does.

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