Wallace Harris was sitting in his Ford Falcon on the side of the road. "I'm an Oddball for Peeking at You" by The Tears was squawking on the radio. He turned the radio off.
For no apparent reason, he felt for his hangnail and his jaw and his knee. They were all there. That was good. Also, his buttocks was not burning. That was good, too.
He felt princely. He must have had quite a nap. What time is it? He looked at the clock. Eight p.m. About what you'd expect, still on schedule. The nap had taken no time at all.
He looked out the window. There was a cave visible across the road, but nothing special to see. Probably time to get going. He started up his Ford Falcon and took off down the road. "Cunyvopi paquavun," he thought to himself.