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It can happen in big cities, too. When I lived in Detroit a guy I'd never met recognized me outside the grocery store. Well, technically he recognized my bike, but I didn't know who he was.
My dad grew up in Colombia and went to college at Yale. One year, on his way home for Christmas, he was in Macy's in Midtown Manhattan a few days before Christmas when a stranger tapped him on the shoulder and said, in Spanish, "hey, are you the son of XXX?" (He was) Roughly the same thing happened to him about 35 years later in Florida.
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'80 SC Targa
Avondale, Chicago, IL
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