Cam's Truck, Sue's Parking & Austin's Wet Shirt

I'm in the passenger seat in Cameron's truck.His big, beautiful, spotless, white truck. Sue is driving. We're pulling into her driveway and her daughter Zareen's car is parked crooked with the nose facing diagonally towards the right of the garage. I don't think there's enough room but Sue's parked here many times and she is sure it'll fit.

She flies into the garage. So fast I'm sure we'll crash through the wall into the stairwell that leads down to the family room.
We're extremely wedged between Zareen's champagne colored late-90s Chevy Suburban and a "cherry picker" (think that holds motors when you need to work on them outside the car. Also, I have never met Cameron's sister, but I've heard about her a little. I have no idea what car she drives but I highly doubt it's a Suburban)

Sue is determined to close the automatic door with both vehicles inside so she slowly presses the accelerator until the soft, pristinlely painted right corner of the truck is touching a sharp, badly weathered, paint-chipped corner of the cherry picker.
For a moment, I see the car from the outside. The collision is dramatic.I see the tired, mechanical corner digging into the white paint on the bumper, in slow-motion, watching the tiny paint flakes and metal shards fly in the air like an explosion.

Time Travel

Austin is standing in front of Sue and Cam's house in the street. There is a large, old oak tree growing through the asphalt. The street isn't disturbed or broken, it's as if the tree grew there naturally, a soft transition in nature.
He's having an absolute fit about something. He's wearing a plain, white tee shirt and his arms are crossed at his chest, literally stomping/marching around the tree. Red with anger. Reminds me of a child's tantrum.

Time Travel

Austin has his shirt off. He is holding the white shirt in the air and screaming about how his shirt got wet somehow.
He reaches up to the tree and breaks off a large, leafless branch about 4 feet long and thick enough that he can't get his hand all the way around.

He tosses the shirt on the branch and tries clumsily to straighten and spread it out and begins to wave it like a surrender flag around the base of the tree. His expression has gone from complete and utter rage to a little shy and embarrassed. His cheeks have changed from an angry red to a more soft and innocent pink.

Time Travel

All four of us are in the truck. Sue is driving, Cam's in the seat beside her and Austin and I are seated in the back: I'm behind Sue.
She is holding the tee shirt down near her feet on the left side of the steering wheel and she gets a little frustrated and says, "This is a really bad angle for me, my back hurts." She hands me the shirt in a damp wad.

There is a heater in the middle console facing us and I've got mine pretty high and with pretty good force blowing in my face. I move the direction of the slats of the vent, open the shirt as far as I can so expose as much surface area and dry it quickly. The heater is HOT but I let is burn my legs while I dry his shirt.

Then I wake up.