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Weekly Contest #302
The Callahan family’s rusty, beat-up Valiant rumbled and wheezed down the long and winding road, a cloud of dust coming out of the exauhst. The engine coughed like an old smoker every time Dad changed gears, but he didn’t seem to mind. At the wheel, he whistled happy, off-key tunes from his youth, tapping the steering wheel with his thumbs like he was performing in front of a cheering crowd. Next to him in the passenger seet sat Mum, frowning down at a road map so faded and wrinkled it looked like it had survived WW1 (and 2). She rotated it ...
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