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At the foot of Rainbow Mountain, a truck blared its horn—beep beep beep. A middle-aged driver, too restless to sit still, opened the door and stepped out of the cab to look ahead—at least a hundred cars were jammed up in front of him, the traffic stretching from the base of the mountain halfway up the slope.
He looked behind him. One car after another came up reeking of gasoline and smoke, like a game of Snake, tailing each other bumper to bumper.
Shaking his hea ...
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