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Iron Horse Ranch: A Short Story

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When it was all over Spencer Luczak maneuvered into the pits at Iron Horse Ranch, you could tell just by looking at him that this had been a grueling race. His dirt bike was plastered with so much brown, wet, sticky mud that you couldn’t even read the number plates. His boots, resting comfortably on the foot pegs, were a wreck of muddy brown dirt, bright white plastic and dark buckles. His riding pants were soaked and covered with mud on the front, while the back remained a brilliant orange and red. His sleeves had turned the same swampy cocoa shading as his bike. His goggles hung looped over the handlebars of his bike, dripping the ooze it had saved from Spencer’s eyes. His helmet, still on his head, was a greasy smeary brown, save for the

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