Early morning and it was just about time to leave Cheyenne. He watched the breath puff out of his nose like a Pamplona bull through the predawn light. A few antelope stared at him from the edge of barbed wire across the street then calmly went back to their breakfast. Humans outside of their metal monsters were considered non-threatening to their wild ways. He climbed into the warmed-up all-toasty cab and tried again to find something other than country on the dial. He would hit something faint around the 98 FM range but not quite strong enough to make it out, just ghosts of a drum machine and maybe a keyboard, the distant cry of a girl in pink pleather and feather earrings pleading for reassurance? It would be lean listening between here and Flagstaff, not exactly the hotbed of pop music
