Reporting this on behalf of my father, a retired commercial pilot with 22,000 hours, who does not use the internet and does not care whether anyone believes him — a combination that, in my experience, correlates with telling the truth.
March 2026, driving Highway 50 east of Fallon, Nevada, around 9 p.m. He describes three amber lights in an equilateral triangle, low, maybe 2,000 feet, holding station over the desert north of the highway. No strobes, no nav lights, no sound with the window down — and he pulled over specifically to listen, because as he puts it, 'everything that flies makes noise, and the things that make the least noise make the most at 2,000 feet.'
They held position for four to five minutes. Then all three moved — simultaneously, no acceleration curve he could perceive, from stationary to gone-over-the-mountains in under two seconds. His words: 'I've watched fighters do max-performance departures for forty years. This made them look like freight.'
He reported it to no one at the time. Fallon is Navy training airspace and he assumed exercises — until he called the base as a professional courtesy and was told, politely, that nothing was flying that night.