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BACK IN: San Salvador, we find an ancient station wagon posing as a taxi; our driver is short and rotund, bald but for a horrible slicked-down combover. He squints and has a gold tooth that he sucks on between sentences. Winking, he reaches in the rear door and releases a rope that holds the rear door closed. It pops open and he screams Automatic! with a laugh. He's giggly, chattering and obsessed with distances. read more: http://www.planetkapow.com/1717

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