After a tense round of "the art of the deal," handshakes were exchanged. The Indian was loaded into the van, alongside a stack of and the porcelain sign. As they drove away, the sun setting over the Blue Ridge Mountains, Mike looked in the rearview mirror at their haul.
Frank smirked, leaning back. "People say a lot of things, Mike. Usually, it’s just a barn full of old newspapers and raccoon nests." American Pickers - Season 18
The white Mercedes Sprinter van hummed along a backroad in rural , the kind of road where the mailboxes are more rust than metal. Inside, Mike Wolfe and Frank Fritz were squinting through the windshield, scanning the horizon for the telltale signs of a "honey hole"—overgrown barns, stacks of weathered wood, or the skeletal remains of a vintage tractor. After a tense round of "the art of