The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A bunch of mangy raccoons are rummaging through a dumpster behind a worn-down truck stop, like they're competing for food or something. The air's thick with the smell of diesel fuel, stale grease, and exhaust fumes, while the sky's a hazy, grayish-brown color with a thin layer of smog hovering above the parking lot. Umm, somehow a completely intact and functioning speed limit sign has gotten lodged in a hollowed-out raccoon carcass, still flashing the speed limit of 55 miles per hour. The whole area's surrounded by a dense thicket of overgrown bushes, like it's been abandoned for years.