This truck looks at home in front of the Acme Warehouse. I have no idea what they make, but the place is cluttered with mysterious, outdated, rusty equipment.
The owner come out of the warehouse just as I was about to lie on my belly on the pavement to shoot up into the face of the truck. So I abandoned the shot and told the guy I love his truck. I hate getting caught=. Feel like a Stalker.
I wonder if he is there every Sunday. I'd come a little earlier next week.
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