The waiting queue of semi-trailers marked the entrance to the yard where his operation was at work. I had come equipped with my tape recorder so that I wouldn't miss any nuance of what he had to say about recent innovations in logging practices, but as soon as I opened my car door I realized that the recorder would be useless. Writing notes as I trailed my host through the woods was no more feasible. After our shouted, yet affable conversation, I took refuge in the first spot that I could find to record what I thought I had heard.
Recollections are invariably mixed with the conditions in which they are again collected.
As I struggled against the distraction of the Diner's decor, I turned my gaze out the window only to discover a modular home dealer across the street. Revealed on the unjoined sides of these halved homes was the same pixellated texture that adorned the interior of the Diner.