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Wish You Were Here

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The tapes go in the trunk, where he can't see them. He tries listening to the radio.

"D'Yer Mak'er."

Flip.

"Harvester of Sorrows."

Flip.

"Back in Black."

Sam nearly breaks the button, he hits it so hard.

In north Georgia, he finds a university station—until the DJ says, "This one's a classic, y'all. Get out the lighters."

So you think you can tell heaven from hell…

He drives the 75 miles to Atlanta in silence. Best Buy is too big, too loud, but he approaches the counter and says, "Can you put an iPod jack in a '67 Impala?"