Bright light is streaming into the car and he thinks: roadblock, cops, spotlights. The light’s blocked by a silhouette. There’s a rapping noise on the window. Randy looks over and sees the driver’s seat empty, no keys in the ignition. The car’s cool and dormant. He sits up and rubs his face, partly because it needs to be rubbed and partly because it’s probably smart to keep one’s hands in plain sight. More rapping on the windshield, growingly impatient. The windows are fogged and he can only see shapes. The light’s reddish. He’s got a completely inappropriate erection. Randy gropes for a window control, but the car’s got power windows and they don’t work when it’s not running. He gropes around on the door until he’s figured out how to unlock it, and almost instantly it flies open and someone’s coming inside to join him.