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Weekly Contest #345
“God damn it!” The stink of motor oil kept my nostrils twitching. It really was time to turn in that piece of junk. Do you really think I am a piece of junk? The old Buick’s headlights stared back at me and I sighed. “Of course not, old girl. I’m just tired.” Another twitch. Maybe a hint of diesel? How many leaks could a car have and still run? Well, all this sweat and other stuff sure are not helping either. “Alright, Oliver. You can do this.” Talking to myself in the third person? That was a new low. Hard to believe, but it seems the lonel...
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