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Apr 29, 2010 20:16

It could be said that the Den isn't the worst town to be in, but it's not what you'd want on the cover of your Post-Apocalyptic Tourist Guide, and it doesn't give the best first impression to off-world visitors when you bring them here via an outhouse situated on the dry, cracked brown land behind a seedy dive called The Hole.

"It's this way. Watch your step." Which is more advice to avoid risk of tetanus or putting your foot in something messy and best not speculated as to the nature of.

Sativa would prefer to quickly press on, passing the broke streets, litter-strewn sidewalks, dilapidated buildings and meandering junkies to get to the scrapyard.

There, behind chain-link fences, on land wreathed by rusted heaps piled on top of each other and next to the makeshift office where the elderly mechanic Smitty lives and works, is a diamond in the rough in classic American design. A long wide road machine with a strong resemblance to a '58 Plymouth, if Chrysler had been putting atomic engines into their cars.

Sure, it's got a bit of rust on the body here and there, and there's a few cracks on the windshield, but it's what's on the inside that counts.

Real leather interior, too.
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