A new Nissan pickup pulls into a spot near the Jeep. A Ryder truck driving too close to the curb briefly hangs up on an innocent bystander tree, frees itself, and makes a right into the business park. A UPS truck follows it around the back of the building.

A yellow Penske truck drives by far too quickly.

A little Chevy SUV driven by a man who appears to be wearing a colored button-down shirt pulls up right next to the fire hydrant, then has to back up to be legal. A green Mitsubishi parks right behind it, and out comes a red-haired woman, who gets out, and gets into the Chevy. Off they drive together, to consummate their forbidden love.

Entering the final eight hours of the work week under grey skies, the business park's lot begins to fill with the cars. A slacker-styled girl in a white sedan pulls up and gets out with her coffee, walks to the door of Dana's, bounces off of it, and walks back to her car. She's waiting, now, to get at her paycheck, so she can go buy some new distressed pants.

Three guys are working on a little green hatchback on the street. The hood's open, the front is jacked up. One guy is in the front doing something, the other two are standing behind the car watching, it seems, the varying level of exhaust being produced. Now they've all stepped away from the car, and are standing by a mean black chevy truck, an older one. Now they're all looking under the hood of the hatchback.

The furniture fellows, having delivered a single stack of chairs, put the ramp back up into the back of the truck, and buckle their safety belts before driving away.

The lettering on the side of the Cort truck has a beautiful RT ligature.

A moustached man wheels a load of stacked black metal chairs out the back of the truck. Up onto the sidewalk, up to the driveway, into the parking lot, and into the employment agency.

A medium-sized semi truck has pulled up on the street in front of the business park. It's grey, and reads "CORT furniture rental" in letters thousands of points tall. Two guys have rolled some wheeled devices out of the back, down a ramp.

Now he's hosing down the thirsty plants.

Claw man, having mowed and watered the lawn, now disconnects the hose from the sprinklers and the wall. He has put on his headphones.

Claw-man is out, picking quickly through the ivy with his claw-on-a-stick. Putting tiny pieces of trash into the bucket he carries in his other hand. He zig-zags across the lot. He claws up a little discarded plastic bag. He steps over the ivy, briskly, business-like. He's in a hurry this morning. It looks like there is a lot of trash to be picked up, because he's all over the place, and constantly pinching things in the claw device. He strolls between the cars. Now he's walking back to the north end, scanning the lot, the claw opening and closing in expectation.

Man in a striped shirt walks straight from Pro Pac to a Taurus that appears to have endured a side impact, puts something in it through the driver's side door, walks back into the building.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have spotted the driver of the oft-seen Mercedes convertible, and declare him to be a slow-moving fellow with a cooler.

Pro Pacific girl enjoys a cigarette.

There goes a man with a tennis racket, walking two big dogs.

It's a beautiful day at the business park. A lone crow strolls through the grass, pecking occasionally.