Apparel

Wear the weird. Seven all-over print jerseys that put a desert night, a green tractor beam, or a haunted two-lane highway across your entire torso. A cotton ringer tee straight off a 1978 gift shop rack. A polo covered in glowing televisions for when you need to look respectable and are not. And a flat-bill cap with the logo stitched big enough to read across a parking lot.

The jerseys are light and quick-drying, built for three days in a town with one diner and a lot of walking after dark. Everything else is built for the diner.