SUNSET DRIVE

Number 454 Palmetto Drive once weighed loads of floor tiles. The scale stood in the yard; the first-floor office gave its attendant a complete view of trucks and a partial view of lunch. A sliding service window, an expired calendar and forms assigning surprising values to “empty” remain. When weighing operations closed, the broad window became the lease’s main attraction. It overlooked the road, stationary cars and enough sky to justify almost any scenic diversion announced on air. The abandoned scale stayed outside because moving it required a vehicle considerably larger than anyone wanted to book.

Sunset Drive began broadcasting in March 1985. Turntables took the place of dispatch forms; drivers handed tapes through the service window. A small “proceed slowly” sign remained beside the staircase, advice ideally suited to rush hour. The studio adopted synthesisers because they seemed to extend the road markings all the way towards the bay. Early listeners recognised the building by its dented canopy. Nobody straightened it: the door stayed dry, and the replacement estimate exceeded the cost of the entire control desk. The old weighing tickets became scrap paper for requests, with the weight column left deliberately blank.

In May 1985, confusion between a counter queue and a traffic jam brought a new voice upstairs. It did not solve the building’s difficulties: every truck rattled the service window, and the air conditioner would work only with a bucket underneath. New seals, flexible turntable mounts and a bucket-emptying chart followed. In October, drivers stuck at interchange 9 requested the same track from seven different cars. The station played it once, letting everybody honk their measure while keeping the studio windows shut. The call sheet became a collective map of the queue, complete with seven competing estimates of its length.

Today, the control room smells of takeaway coffee and warm cassette plastic. Tyres crossing road joints can be heard between synthesiser chords. The setting sun reflects from windscreens and enters through the broad glass like a spotlight without a switch. The road seems to continue beneath the console even when every car stays still. Someone has left a map marked “nearly there” at the service window. The station keeps it beside the old weighing forms: here, a wait can finally have company without anybody having to promise that it will become shorter.

LITTLE STORIES

• The air-conditioner bucket has its own service chart.
• The service window closes against an orange seal.
• An old scale weight supports the books.
• The expired calendar still says “departure”.
• The weighing board now counts incoming tapes.

THE NEIGHBOURS

• Highway Diner : Highway Diner at 450 supplies coffee and carefully distinguishes its queue from road traffic.
• Sunset Garage : Sunset Garage at 442 lends flexible mounts that stop the turntables following passing trucks.
• Palmetto Drive-In : Palmetto Drive-In at 468 trades printed programmes for broadcast schedules.