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Wow and to think my first car horror story was a panic attack at 12 driving our family truck (a beast of a 68 Chevy that of course was difficult to steer and handle...) home because we couldn't leave it in the target parking lot and it HAD to be driven home. But my mom was very generious. I got to practice driving in the parking lot for twenty minutes before I went out by myself on the road. I even swerved turning the corner and some man pulled beside me and called me a drunk driver!!
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Who the hell needs a damn signature anyway?
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