After midnight is magic time. The old two lane roads and dead, dusty towns are empty and quiet. I can set my tripod up in the middle of the road and make a ten minute exposure without the fear of getting run over. If a car did come, I can hear its engine whispering on the breeze ten minutes before I ever see its lights. The fluttering of bats wings, and the distinct howl of distant coyotes are the only sounds to keep me company. It's easy to see why the native American culture is so reverent about the power of nature.