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Last Days of the 20th Century, Part 2 |
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The money made from selling my dad's paintings as well as my savings had not yet been deposited into my checking account apparently, but I had $100 in the account. I had a new debit card and wasted no time on this little detail. Moe and Larry were deep asleep and didn't wake as I slipped out the door. A thick late-night fog rolled in from the Pacific Ocean as I shifted through gears towards Malibu. I accelerated nervously, the engine sounded horrible and I swerved from lane to lane, fighting to find balance atop the bike. I leaned forward and twisted the throttle along a curvy stretch of Pacific Coast Highway, heading north towards San Francisco.
I
covered 100 miles thinking about what to look for, and what to document.
Pulling over and doing a random survey would be so lame. I tried to come
up with a plan, a strategy, but these thoughts suddenly took second place
to an even greater concern—the motor. |
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