Fake Road Runner stripe on a crashed ’72 Satellite, at that junkyard in the desert. I was totally being stalked by some crazy feral guy in this normally abandoned junkyard who must have been performing midnight auto supply. He never got closer than about 100 yards away and howled at me like a (Wile E.) coyote as I finally slipped out the fence in the middle of the night. 100-seconds of full moon, lit with blue and yellow from the Protomachines flashlight.