Marco.

Marco is seventeen. He grew up in Great Barrington, in a house two blocks off Route 7, and he's been working since he was thirteen — bussing tables, walking dogs, shoveling driveways through the long Berkshire winters. He saves almost everything he earns.

Two years ago he found an old ice cream truck for sale in a barn in Sheffield. Engine ran. Freezer didn't. Paint was a memory. He took photos of it on his phone and didn't show anyone for a week — he just looked at them. Then he made a plan.

The plan is detailed in a way that makes adults take him seriously. He's mapped the routes — three loops through the southern county, timed for after-school traffic, weekends, the lake crowds. He's talked to suppliers. He's priced the freezer rebuild down to the last gasket.

What he needs now is capital. Parts, paint, the freezer, the first run of inventory, the permits. He's been saving for two years and he's most of the way there — but not all the way. That's where this shirt comes in.

Every dollar from this design goes straight to Marco. Not to us. Not to a foundation. To him, for parts, for paint, for the ice cream itself. By August we want to see him driving past us on Route 7, blasting the jingle. That's the goal. That's the whole thing.