Interstate Scene 8: I scroll down the dial in search of the midnight call-in shows, those carrier waves of national rumor and patchwork theory.
Interstate Scene 7: Headlights and taillights shimmered, their drivers hopped up on coffee and talk radio.
Interstate Scene 6: It was a run-down joint where time stood still and probably slid backward.
Interstate Scene 5: The desert’s silence was hell on my tinnitus.
