The neat thing is that when getting to digging out the last wheel, there's a distinct taste of blood that's worked its way up to the back of the throat (lung capillaries), this coupled (or contrasted) with the sharp cold air ripping down the throat with each inhale. Now it's off to dig out the folks on the north side of town.
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What kind of a car is that? Looks like my dad's Oldsmobile, circa 1988...
'98 Pontiac Bonneville. Although GM has been rightly accused of lacking aesthetic diversity in pretty much all of its fleets.
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