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We never could fool the junkman, but that never deterred us little Germantown rascals from trying. Time and again we gathered the gang (and our dog, Patches), and conspired how, this time, we could deceive the man at the Brickyard junkyard when he weighed out our little red-wagon of newspapers and scrap metal. Not the heavy rocks we placed in the middle of our load, nor our feeble attempts to put our foot on the scale fooled him. This junkman had seen it all. He probably worked the summers on the boardwalks at the shore. He would have been the guy that would guess your weight within a few pounds; he seldom lost. We always left the junkyard disappointed but not without a renewed commitment: next time we'll get that extra quarter out of him..."Tomorrow is another day."