It’s a row of cows luxuriating along a fence that finally makes him pull the car over. They’re of the black and white variety, and they seem less judgy than the brown ones, somehow.

A pair of them take particular interest as the Lincoln rumbles onto the gravel shoulder of the highway and stops, even ignoring their dinner of hay to watch David emerge from the vehicle, don his best sunglasses, and descend into the overgrowth bordering the road.