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Unfortunately I mostly wake up too drowsy to fight, and fight well, but my hope machine has been used so much I must constantly lubricate it with a glass or two of wine. My guess, though, that your old tractor was as much a hope machine as one can find, and in my youth the tractor was more of a hope than being up in the hay loft bucking bales. At my age my hope machine is hoping there is a lot left to do!

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