I slip from sips of morning brew, or splash from sauces, fresh and new. From bustling markets I stake my blight, no ordinary wash can make me right. You scrub, you soak, you curse and pout, but I remain, quite annoying no doubt!

I am a word of two meanings, I might be made of oak. Often a part of a wheel, When you've said so, you have ???.

I make a tall point, but I am not made of limestone. You might see me in places like, Egypt, Washington, and Rome.

Left is right and right is left, but that's not really true; what you see when you see me, is what I see of you.

I never move, yet travel far, an iron spine of a thousand bars. I sometimes stop, but never arrive, and carry cars that do not drive. What am I?