Funny how senseless hope can be sometimes. Like a funeral procession I make several loops around my apartment building last night, scanning over the same cars I see everyday. A brisk, 21 degree New England frost creeps up the window as my chapped thumb clicks buttons labeled "PANIC" and "OPTION" because a car alarm clicker I'm friends with had lost its partner. My car was stolen last night. A gorgeous, restored, custom 1995 Acura Integra GSR. 190k miles, but you'd never know it. Bounced you around like a bad pilot on approach, but you loved it. Problem after mechanical problem, but you fixed it.
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