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About Namur

I tink, dis car’s a fighter, sneaky fast, not loud like dem muscle cars—more “hidden dragon” dan “crouching tiger,” ya get me? Prolly why I dig her, reminds me of me—rough round edges, but heart of gold. Escort XR3i, dat hot hatch? Oof, sexy lil’ ting, made me grin like a fool! But da new ones? Meh, boring as a stale pierogi. Gimme da oldies, da rally queens!

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Oh, and don’t get me started on the nightlife. You’d think a small town stays asleep. Ha! Some nights at the local bar near Dorpsplein, the banter’s so raw it practically hurts. I told a client once, “Ever feel the anger? It’s like the city itself is having a bad day – c’mon, get a grip!” Yeah, I’m not your typical warm-and-fuzzy spa owner, I’ve got sarcasm dripping off my words like a leaky faucet.

Drunk driver switches seats with passenger while driving