06/04/2026
In the sun-baked hills around Nelson Ghost Town, Tony had two hobbies that seemed perfectly reasonable to him and completely baffling to everyone else: collecting old trucks and admiring mountain scenery. The result was a yard that looked like a retirement village for rusty pickups, each one parked at what Tony insisted was the “best scenic overlook.” Visitors would ask whether he was restoring the trucks, and Tony would gesture grandly at the mountains and say, “They’re restoring me.” By sunset, he could spend an hour debating which had more character, a dented 1948 flatbed or the jagged ridgeline behind it. The trucks never moved, the mountains never changed, and somehow Tony still claimed the collection was “coming along nicely.”
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