As Silas winched the Ford onto his flatbed, he smiled. By tomorrow, the truck would be stripped. The doors and bed would go to a body shop, the engine would go to a mechanic, and the frame would be sold for scrap. By the end of the week, the truck that "didn't exist" would be responsible for putting three other trucks back on the road.
The seller, a nervous kid named Leo, stood by a 1998 Ford F-250. The body was straight, but the paint was sun-bleached to the color of a bone. who buys trucks with no title
The gravel crunched under the tires of Silas’s beat-up flatbed as he pulled into the driveway of a house that looked like it was being reclaimed by the woods. In the bed of his truck sat a heavy-duty winch and a stack of blank "Bill of Sale" forms. As Silas winched the Ford onto his flatbed, he smiled