Abstract
When I was seventeen, like many young men I wanted a cool, fast car. Many of my generation will remember the significance of a ‘55, ‘56, or ‘57 Chevy. There were other cars, but all where second fiddle to the five, the six, or the seven. I could not afford one and soon figured out that, no matter how much I spent on this demonstration of who I was I would never win the race. There were too many other guys who had more.
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