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Today, finally, after much anticipation, was a gorgeous fall day: blindingly brilliant blue sky. Maples doing their best attempt at impersonating the red-orange-yellow range of a box of Crayolas. Crisp air, temperatures comfortably in the 50s. And the mysterious, pervasive scent of french fries which followed me for a quarter of a mile down University Avenue. Because nothing says fall like oil-drenched tubers.