At a party, Harris introduces his theory of "Parkers" and "Drivers"—Drivers are grounded, easygoing people who find contentment in ordinary experiences and can handle long, uneventful drives, while Parkers need dramatic, applause-worthy tasks and are otherwise bored and "disappointed." He categorizes himself and their charming friend Sonja as Drivers, and pointedly identifies the narrator as a Parker. The narrator feels stung by the implication, recognizing that what Harris calls "disappointed" is really her depression, her recent "blues." She watches Harris flirt animatedly with Sonja, noting his unusual energy, then drifts to the dance floor, where she dances wildly and provocatively. When she catches Harris watching, they exchange their signature two-finger salute—a gesture from when they first met—sharing a moment of deep, wordless devotion before both look away, understanding the feeling would vanish if they drew closer.

The next morning, the narrator seizes on the idea of driving cross-country to New York instead of flying, reframing it as a transformative quest that will make her a more present, grounded person—a Driver. Her friend Jordi is unimpressed, having done the drive herself, but the narrator insists this is different: a spiritual journey of total presence. Harris embraces the plan enthusiastically, mapping routes, highlighting queer-friendly stops, and encouraging her to extend the trip to three weeks. The narrator notes Harris's generosity stems partly from guilt over her recent heavy parenting load while he worked closely with his twenty-seven-year-old protégée, Caro.

The narrator reflects on how parenthood exposed a latent sexism in their marriage. Before having their child Sam, she and Harris were equal workaholics, but motherhood thrust her into a gendered dynamic where Harris was praised for contributions she was shamed for, and he couldn't see or fully believe her experience of guilt and invisible labor. She describes the painful disconnect between them on this issue.

A major upcoming event looms: a meeting on the fifteenth with "Arkanda," a pseudonym for a world-famous pop star who has expressed interest in collaborating with the narrator. This meeting has been postponed repeatedly, exciting and frustrating the narrator and her friends. Finally a firm date, time, and location have been set—three o'clock at Geoffrey's in Malibu—making it imperative she return from her trip on time. Harris assures her she'll make it back one way or another.

When the narrator asks if Harris worries for her safety, he says his route-mapping is his way of caring, and sends her off with "Have fun!" She contrasts this with her own father, who sent her mother off with anxious warnings, then reflects on her grandmother Esther, who jumped from her New York apartment at fifty-five, reportedly unable to bear going gray—though the narrator privately suspects she was already dyeing her hair. The narrator pins Harris's printed map above her desk next to the neighbor's note about the telephoto photographer, musing that if the man returned while she was driving, he'd have to make do with old pictures.