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Once a week, probably around age 12, I rode my bike up and down Urbana Drive in the Wheaton-Glenmont neighborhood north of Washington, D.C., delivering copies of the Montgomery County Journal. My bike was black with newspaper baskets over the back wheel, and I once did a great end-over-end cartwheel off it while trying to impress a girl. I didn’t get the girl, but did break and dislocate all four left hand fingers and split open my upper lip.

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