I am in a car with Hillary –- an old 70s Mustang convertible. It is a low-riding vehicle and the top is down, even though it's very cold. She is driving on the highway very recklessly, too fast for the curves. She loses control of the car and it starts to swerve, going onto the shoulder, barely missing the other cars. I am getting mad at her, telling her to slow down, that she has no control of the car and is going to get us killed. She laughs maniacally, throwing her head back, saying we are fine. There is a secret service man crouched in the back seat who also mutters that we are fine, but he doesn't sound as if he believes it.