Clang, clang, clang goes the trolley

My dear wife Karen spotted it first, over on the far side of the big road when we pulled into the Byrne Dairy to fill her car up with gas.

A trolley!

Yes, indeed.

Strange sight.

Not the kind attached to overhead cables we’d riddden while in San Francisco, mind you, but of the same sort of body shape and design.

I walked closer to snap a photo, and her mind worked as she figured out what was going on in our neck of the woods.

When she say some men wearing suits climbing aboard, she figured they’d hired the trolley to travel about for a wedding party.

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