Well, damn. Duster is done.

After just one season, HBO Max has pulled the plug on one of the most intriguing, stylish and sneakily radical shows to hit streaming in a while. It’s not a total surprise. The writing was on the wall with the lack of promotion, the quiet Thursday release schedule and the notoriously chaotic state of Warner Bros. and Max. But the cancellation still stings.

Because Duster was so much fun, and it had something to say.

Co-created by LaToya Morgan and J.J. Abrams, Duster fused grindhouse grit with the polish of a prestige drama. Set in the early 1970s American Southwest, it followed two unlikely FBI agents—one, a sharp and fearless Black woman (played with captivating presence by Rachel Hilson), and the other, an empathetic, comic-book-loving Navajo man (Asivak Koostachin, who brings such warmth to the role that you immediately want to see him in everything).

These two navigated the dusty highways, seedy motels, abandoned warehouses and corrupt institutions of an America grappling with change. And they did it with heart and an ever-growing stack of unsolved mysteries.

Hilson’s Nina is a recent Quantico graduate navigating a post-Hoover FBI that’s uncertain about what to do with its minority recruits now that its original motivation—infiltrating Civil Rights Movements—has lost bureaucratic backing. She transfers to the Phoenix field office, determined to bring down a regional crime boss named Ezra, a trucking magnate deeply connected to her past.

And that crime boss is played by the absolute legend Keith David, in full velvet-voiced, scene-devouring form. Ezra sidesteps the cartoon villain trope. He’s layered: a businessman, a devoted father, a war survivor. David brings a bruised humanity to the role that only makes him more dangerous.

Then there’s Josh Holloway as Jim, Ezra’s go-to driver. Behind the wheel of a cherry red 1970 Plymouth Duster (yes, that Duster), he tears across backroads and desert highways to make deliveries, pick up mystery packages, and in the series’ bold opener, transport a human heart across state lines for Ezra’s ailing son Royce (Benjamin Charles Watson).

Jim is haunted by the unsolved death of his brother two years earlier, a mystery that Nina zeroes in on to gain his trust and bend him to her side.

Jim’s relationship with the sharp-tongued Izzy (Camille Guaty), her clever daughter Luna (Adriana Aluna Martinez), and the broader trucking world—including a unionization subplot for female drivers—deepens the show’s world. There’s grit and texture here. The show touches on racism, sexism, post-Vietnam malaise and shifting American ideals in the lives of people just trying to survive the system.

Sofia Vassilieva also shines as Jessica, a seemingly minor FBI secretary who becomes part of Nina’s inner circle alongside Awan. Together, this trio of outsiders quietly builds an off-the-books resistance inside a whitewashed, misogynistic institution. Their growing bond is one of the show’s most enjoyable dynamics, built on mutual respect and resourcefulness.

And then there’s the history. Duster is peppered with real-world references and period details. Colonel Tom Parker shows up. There’s a detour to Elvis’s Palm Springs home and blue suede shoes. A shady Nixon tape floats around. Howard Hughes’s million-dollar car changes hands. It all adds a spicy, lived-in quality to a story that might otherwise drift into action pulp. These touches never overwhelm the plot, but they remind you that this is the good ol’ USA, 1972. Messy and alive.

Visually, Duster cooks. Dayna Pink’s costumes scream ‘70s—tactile, trendy textured and colorful. The convoy of muscle cars and dusty landscapes of the Southwest provided a cinematic backdrop, bolstered by directors Steph Green and Darren Grant, who keep the action fast and the tone just shy of cartoonish (outside of the endearing homage to Looney Tunes). The violence is stylized. The chases are thrilling. And the soundtrack is chock-full of bangers that add subtext and an emotional punch to pivotal moments.

More than anything, though, it’s the characters that made me want to keep watching and keep hoping.

I wanted to see Awan reunite with his father on the reservation. I wanted to meet Nina’s mother, who loomed so large in her backstory. I wanted more from Ezra’s daughter, a character clearly poised for bigger things. I wanted a face-off with Mad Raoul, a character who promised chaos. I wanted to finally meet Agent Abbott’s wife—mentioned as a quiet champion of Nina behind the scenes. And I really wanted to see how Kelly, a Black custodian at the FBI office who had Nina’s back, might factor into Nina’s next mission. The show laid these breadcrumbs with care, and I was ready to follow every one of them.

I’ve admired LaToya Morgan’s writing for years. She’s a history buff who wrote on TURN: Washington’s Spies, so I know even richer historical fiction was brewing for Duster Season 2. She balances grit with purpose and always writes with a conscience. Duster was full of layered character moments and a sharp curiosity about the forces shaping America in 1972. And unlike so many shows, it gave us a Black female lead and an Indigenous male lead working side by side as fully formed heroes. That mattered. (She’s currently writing the upcoming Night of the Living Dead reboot, and I can’t wait to see her spin on that iconic story.)

All in all, the show was building toward something bigger. The season finale was a fantastic setup for a stellar sophomore season. More mysteries were about to unfold. New partnerships were born. And we were ready.

But now we’ll never know.

The cancellation pushes Duster into the ever-growing graveyard of one-season wonders that deserved more, alongside Quarry, The Knick, The Get Down, The Resident and so many others. Shows that took risks, introduced bold characters, and were left behind by networks for reasons unknown to us fans.

To those of you who haven’t watched it yet: I’m jealous. You get to experience this glorious season of TV for the first time. Eight stylish, punchy episodes. Justified meets Smokey and the Bandit, with the righteous, take-no-crap spirit of Queen Latifah’s The Equalizer (also canceled too soon). A show that gave Keith David the space to be great, introduced me to Rachel Hilson and Asivak Koostachin, and reminded us that Josh Holloway, Donal Logue and Evan Jones still have plenty of gas left in the tank.

I don’t know if Duster will ever get a DVD release, but I hope it does. I want to own it so I can revisit all the details and performances that made it special. This was a world built with care and packed with stories still waiting to be told.

It deserved more time. But I’m still grateful we got the ride we did.