Setting the Scene"
The early summer sun hangs low and cool against the rolling American meadows, lazily beginning to cast its gaze over another serene, newborn morning. Delicate but unwavering, it brings the landscape to life, painting the valley in amber shades so warm they can practically be felt. The depth and flowing continuity in these endless fields, draped in their clementine pallet, remains mostly unbroken but for a neat, dark ribbon of tarmac, slicing back and forth as if laid down by the hawk gliding soundlessly above.
Like an incoming storm, an imposing, thunderous tone bellows distantly above the hills, cutting through the picturesque still-life and growing louder as it echoes, following the zig-zagging vein of asphalt, ever-aggressively surging forward and inhaling the scene's serenity only to expel it rearward in an affront to all things understated. Contrasting though it may seem, the proprietor