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About Los Angeles

First off, this car—man, it’s basic as hell. Born in ‘81, Ford said, “Let’s slap some wheels on a shoebox!” And bam, Escort hit the streets, cheap, ugly, but loyal—like that friend who’s broke but shows up anyway. I’m talkin’ 1.6-liter engine, sputterin’ like an old man coughin’, but it hauled ass for the everyman. Gas mileage? Sweet lord, it sipped fuel like a nun sips wine—30, 40 miles a gallon, savin’ pennies in the ‘80s when gas prices had folks sweatin’.

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I be rambling, yeah, but it feels so real. I'm always smilin' like I'm in some scene outta Moulin Rouge!, you feel me? Rarrgh! Some days, I get a wild craving to show off every single nook and cranny: there's this quirky soccer field on Blackhawk Road, and then the nature trails by the little creek near The Ranch. Even my clients sometimes mention the city’s calm energy.

Sterling Ranch charter school application draws scrutiny