When I first lived in Brighton, MA, there was a terrible, decrepit, mean old dark blue Buick which had come to roost by the kerb on our street. It was rusted and dented and had a five or ten degree list to starboard. It had one of those sort of prognathous, toothy grilles that evil old Buicks often have.

We never saw it move, but some days it would be in a different spot. We were all afraid to park our cars near it. Whatever it had might be catching, or maybe it would just attack them. We didn't want to find out. Fortunately there was good parking there. At some point during the first year, the Death Car vanished. We thought it might have killed one of the other cars, buried the body, and gone on the lam, but as far as we could tell none of the others was missing.

To this day, we don't know what happened to the Death Car. There was nothing in the papers. Personally, I think it's out there somewhere, lying low, living under an assumed identity. We haven't seen the last of it.

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