Buck dismounted his bike and pulled off his helmet, holding it under his arm as he glanced around for his motel room. He double-checked his keycard, then looked back up. Room 6, dead ahead.

He opened up his room and gave it a quick looksie before setting his helmet on the dresser. It looked normal. Mundane. But it was full of smell. People, perfume, booze, sex... the countless different nights of countless different people, all evident in ghosts of whiffs that could never quite be scrubbed away.

Familiarized with his temporary home, he returned to his bike to collect his personal belongings.