A station wagon traveled through a suburb, headlights glowing lazily as it approached the inner city. All four windows down, the car was filled with six people who were crowded together--three in the back, one in the storage, and two in the front seats. As they wandered, music and laughter and singing filled the air. The one farthest back was playing an acoustic guitar, a folk melody with mumbled lyrics. The three in the back seats slouched; the two teenagers on the ends leaned their heads out of their windows slightly, getting the night wind in their hair as they crossed town. The youngest, in the middle, leaned against the passenger on his right, feeling the cool breeze waft over his face as he hummed along with the guitar. The driver was focused, yet deep in conversation with the person in her passenger seat who was folding and unfolding the map before crumpling it up and throwing it out the window. In the storage, suitcases rumbled the announcement that the station wagon had just left city limits and was driving over a small gravel patch, jolting the riders.

"We're going to stop up ahead for a seating change," the driver said, her voice slipping over the guitar gracefully.

"Oh, come on, Lily!" chimed the three in the back row in near unison.

Before the station wagon met the highway, she pulled off to the side of the road near a cornfield. She opened her door and stretched for a few minutes. The two teens opened their doors and stepped out of the car. The taller lit a cigarette while the shorter sat on the hood of the car, back against the windshield, looking up at the sky.

"Anyone gotta pee?" inquired the front seat passenger. "It's now or the next city. Got it?"

The guitarist slid out of the back and led the youngest into the corn at the side of the road. Lily was still stretching when they returned, but had moved on to Tai-Chi before everyone was packed up and had returned to the car.

"Juice please," cried the youngest. "I'm thirsty."

"Ask Gabe," came Lily's voice, now from the passenger seat.

"Hold on, kid," replied the musician's voice as he fumbled in the back looking through their shopping bags.

"No worries" yawned the youngest, his response sounding more like a breath than English.

"Here ya go," Gabe said as he tossed the juice box to the boy sitting in front of him. "It's fruit punch."

The little boy drifted off to sleep after his drink, the drowsiness that he had been in denial of finally catching up with him. The five others spoke softly through the rest of the night. When the young boy awoke, it was just before dawn; everyone but the driver was asleep. The rotation had led back to Lily, who was driving with one hand while the other held a cigarette out of the window, sending embers soaring in the wind.

"Are we home yet?" the little boy asked quietly.

"We're almost there," she chuckled. "Can you tell me what bridge we're on?"

"Brooklyn?"

"Golden Gate."

"Is that in New York?" he asked.

"No," she laughed under her breath. "It's not."

"So, when are we going home?"

She hesitated at the question, but the little boy didn't ask again. The sky lightened and began to reach a dull white over the fog of San Francisco Bay. She dropped the cigarette onto the bridge and rolled her window up a little, looking back at the youth in the mirror.

"We're almost there."