Outside you think to yourself that you're late for your paper route and wonder why you would have gotten a hair cut so early in the morning. Then you remember that you weren't 12 year-old Tommy in 1956 when you got your haircut. "I'll have to think more about this later." you think, "But right now I have a job to do."
You look around and see a 1950's version of the street you were on before in 2003. You head to where you remeber you left your bike and find an old fashioned kid's bike with a bag filled with newspaper's. You pick one up and look at the headline.
"Eisenhower will meet with Khruschev"
Definitely the 50's you think. You put the bag over your sholder and get on the bike and drive to your new neighborhood. "Knowing" the route you throw the newspapers at each house in the typical 50's suburban neighborhood. One house there is a man out watering his yard. "Hi Mr. Gibson!" you say instinctively.
"Hi Tommy." He waves back. It's weird feeling like you know a person, but really not. You finish you paper route and ride to your new home. You ride up the driveway of the two story middle class house and into the garage. You "remember" it's time for school and drop the newpaper bag and pick up a pile of books and a bag lunch sitting on the ground.