On Nov. 9, I leave early before class to stop at the gas station. There’s a pickup truck in front of me, with a conspicuous “Make America Great Again” sticker. Before I realize what’s going on, the man who owns the truck walks toward me. I have one hand on the gas nozzle. I nervously glance at the meter, and it tells me I’ve filled only five gallons. I try to do the quick math in my head: six gallons to fill, 13 seconds per gallon.
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