A whole mid century roadside stop, laid out as a place rather than a lineup. The stainless diner car is built from shell modules with a streamlined nose, a glazed window wall and an entrance door, and it is deliberately left open topped with only the chrome roofline band as a parapet, so the counter run, its nine stools, the four booths, the cook line with its griddle, hood and fryer, the urns, shake mixer and fountain head, the pie case, till and jukebox all read from the pack page camera and are walkable in a demo. The motel is three closed room blocks with their doors shut under a covered walk, with the ice machine, vending machines and blank number plates along it, and an office with a lit blank sign band, a lobby roof and its reception desk. Between them the lot is continuous ground from the highway to the back fence: marked parking bays, a grass verge, a two lane road with its centre line, kerbs, wheel stops, lamp posts, picnic tables, bins, a payphone booth, paper boxes, hydrants, a period fuel pump with its tyre stack, and the pylon, arrow, rooftop and vacancy signs. Every sign face, menu strip, vending front, number plate and panel in the scene is blank or an invented abstract shape: there is no lettering and no real brand anywhere. No people and no vehicles: the pack has no skinned meshes.