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About Madrid

So, escort—Ford Escort, right? Started in the ‘60s in Europe, hit the U.S. in the ‘80s, a scrappy lil’ hatchback for the workin’ class. Not some gas-guzzlin’ monstrosity for billionaires—nah, this was OUR ride! Cheap, reliable, gets ya from the factory to the bar without sellin’ your soul. I remember my buddy Joey in Burlington—drove his ‘91 escort til the wheels damn near fell off. Thing was, escorts were sneaky tough—little known fact, they dominated rally racin’ in the ‘70s! Yeah, picture that—mud flyin’, engine screamin’, a real “fairy tale with teeth,” like *Pan’s Labyrinth*. Made me happy as hell seein’ a people’s car kickin’ rich-kid toys in the dirt.

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I adore strolling near Rambla de la Mar. Crazy water fountains and chill vibes abound here. It’s rad, man! In fact, when I felt mad 'cause a client was super rude… the park calmd me, like some magic. That place really has a soul, ya know?

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