Republic's Main Street still runs past the brick storefronts left from the town's tomato-canning years, and on a winter evening, once the shops have gone dark and the last shift has cleared out, Sean's Handy Hauling works those blocks and the driveways just off them before the temperature drops enough to turn slush to ice. It's a narrower kind of run than the open township roads farther out — tight parking behind the storefronts, alleys barely wide enough for the truck, driveways packed close together on streets platted before anyone owned two cars. Sean's takes it slow through there, plowing what fits and shoveling the rest by hand, hauling the extra snow to a corner lot instead of piling it against someone's fence. By the time the streetlights are the only light left on Main, the block sits clear enough that tomorrow's early shift can park where it always has. It's a short list of driveways in an older-platted corner of West Republic, done one at a time.