The neon sign above the radiator shop buzzed with a low, steady frequency that vibrated right through Miller’s boots. The sign read Holloway & Son , though the son had been buried in a dry-county cemetery since ninety-four, and Holloway himself couldn't grip a wrench no more without his knuckles locking up like old brakes.
"To the bank. To the state. To whoever's buying up the bottom half of this county this week. Does it matter?" [S2E6] Hold What You Got
"We used to be able to dictate the terms," the old man muttered. The neon sign above the radiator shop buzzed