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After the Parisians spit in the eye of Uncle Sam, I hopped right onto the O’Reily bandwagon and stopped spending my hard-earned, over-taxed dollars on French goods. Though most of my chums down at the Elk’s Lodge decided to extend the ban to everything that sounds remotely French, I had to draw the line at tonneau covers. I mean, just because I think Chirac is a grade-A weenie doesn’t mean that I want to put up with poorer gas mileage. So I took a stand and got a tonneau. Here’s my story.