When we were kids we would leave the house late at night in the summer and go out on the streets of the town. We had no air conditioners then, so no one could sleep and the town, small as it was, was more awake at night than in the daytime. We had a Greyhound station in the town then, so we were connected to commerce and travel and there would be buses coming in and out of there at all hours, up into the early morning.
Because there were layovers, the counters inside the little depot stayed open all night, selling hot dogs, sodas and coffee. There was a roomful of pinball machines in the back, too and the whole place, a big balloon of a white-frame building, was lit up outside so that it seemed to glow in the night haze. I remember times when the benches in the place would be filled up with people, some of whom would sit there half the night, waiting on the next bus.
Next door to the bus terminal was the fire station and on summer nights the firemen would open both ends of the engine bays and sit in lawn chairs in the slanting light and listen to Cincinnati Reds games when they were out on the west coast playing the Dodgers or the Giants. After a while the lights would draw clouds of insects and then bats would fly around, sometimes in one bay door and out the other, catching the moths and bugs.