Texas, dinner time, you think of trees Tony. After-hours industrial park becomes Oasis. The same as solitary camel herders collapsing under a palm tree. Inside the cab, a truck presses against you. It fills your ears with its roar. It forces you against its spine and feeds off your intellect. And you travel the routes. Unload shipments at back doors, loading docks and pull out for the next delivery that is almost late, almost closed for the night. But that isn't possible because everything is timed and you have to calculate the miles across the entire country in a zig zag fashion. Every warehouse has a different set of hours and the hours change according to Standard Time. Finally you are somewhere down by the Rio Grande. There is an industrial park where the grass is watered and so are the trees. Tony, turn the truck off.