"THEY SAW A HELPLESS VICTIM. HE SAW A TITLE FIGHT. The afternoon sun of late September cast long, tired shadows across the pavement of Elm Street. At the corner bus stop, a small, laminated bench offered little comfort to Arthur ""Art"" Peterson. To the passing world, Art was just another eighty-three-year-old man in a windbreaker that was slightly too big for him. He was a figure of quiet, fading dignity, his hands trembling with a perpetual, nervous rhythm. He sat there every day with his elev

Gliding Through Gold. As the sun drops low and the trees cast long shadows, there’s nothing but the hum of the motor, the glow on the water, and the quiet power of an Excel slicing through the stillness. Moments like these aren’t just rides—they’re rituals. @ryanyarnell406 showing us a good view. | Excel Boats