EXT. YUCCA SPRINGS MOTEL/PARKING LOT - DAWN
The registration office is Yucca'd up decoratively, including neon. Full moon above wet and puddled half-empty lot, first fiery hint of sunrise behind the Sandias.
Tom comes out from room, suitcase in hand, descends stairs, walks to truck, startled to a stop when a COYOTE hurries across in front of him, into and out of view, its eyes on Tom throughout. Tom considers this, proceeds to truck, fishes keys from pocket.
INT. TRUCK
Tom opens driver's door, sets suitcase on passenger seat, gets in, starts engine, moves suitcase to below passenger seat, sets hat on seat, moves phone from pocket to console, buckles up, turns on headlights, turns on radio to the instrumental beginning of Freddy Fender singing (I Love My) Rancho Grande. Tom smiles, turns it up, rolls down window, drives out of lot to street and out of view, MUSIC FADES to FAINT DOG BARKING.
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