A few years back, when we still had real winters in New York, the snow was so deep one night that I left my car at the train station and walked home. No cabs were running. Not a snowplow in sight. Even the mailman had bagged it. The street was perfectly silent--but for a familiar boxy, brown truck rumbling my way sporting the initials U P S. There, I recall thinking, is a stock to own--if only UPS shares traded publicly.
Last year, when I made my first online purchase, the UPS yen resurfaced. By then the Internet had emerged...
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