too much wallace and gromit?

I had a dream the other night that I was on the Wellesley campus with my dog and a Land Rover that was tricked out for a fishing trip (I could tell by the cooler of beer lashed to the hood). I needed to get to the other side of the campus, which can be quite a hike. I remember my dog jumping up to the driver's seat and asking if he could take the truck and meet me there--he'd take the route alongside the walking path, so I could flag him down at a moment's notice. It sounded reasonable enough to me, so I waved him off. He waved a paw back at me, then immediately took a wrong turn and sped off down another road, the wind blowing back his ears like you see in the cartoons. The lures clattered around in the wind, barely audible above the stereo, which the dog had turned up to 11. I remember thinking, "Great, there goes my dog and my truck and my fishing trip."

I don't even like fishing.