In garages for witnesses

Silently the old piece of metal hanging on the wall and if you do not look closely, time seems to stand still. But reckless rusts the already patinated plates from California nearing its end. In his younger years it hung proudly on a rotten HotRod and was rebellious chase by the cops. Now, in feigned retired the number writes to no one. If indeed times one enters the dusty garage and takes a look at the scrap metal applies its concentration more to how stupid the circle rotating pointers want to say:

“Your time is running out – Mister”

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