There is truly something 'romantic' about the small-town stations from those days. Yes, the all-night jock was the only person there in the building. And for me, it was 6 nights a week (Where are the Crests when you need them?).

The overnight guys would sometimes bring in a 6 or 12 pack (depending who was on the guest list for that night) and stuff the cans up inside the coke machine to keep them cold. The bathroom was adjacent to the coke machine. 'Hey Jude' or 'McArthur Park' would usually more than suffice for extended nature calls, but reckless was the jock who entered the facility without turning up the air monitor to make sure the song didn't run out.

Yep, those were the days.