There were container trucks everywhere, most of them backed into black-bumpered loading docks, which were at a height that only our heads were high enough to see over. We didn’t care. Our attention was focussed downwards, intent on scanning the gravelled staging area for bright pieces of metal.
We were at a beverage distribution facility, which also served as a recycling depot and bottle exchange for The Pop Shoppe. It was at the edge of our downtown, in the industrial section of the city, not too far from the railway tracks that ran through town.