At 80 miles per hour, the 1968 candy apple red Corvette streaked effortlessly through the gentle curves near the edge of Texas hill country. It wasn’t a loud sound. Not loud enough to frighten him, but it was loud enough for him to take notice and fill him with anxiety. He immediately clenched the steering wheel a little harder as a wave of near panic shot up his spine. Then, just as quickly as it surfaced, it subsided. A slight, but unusual vibration began to emanate from somewhere within the heart of the car, or so it seemed. He glanced in the rear view mirror, saw there were no vehicles for as far as he could see, and decided that he would pull the car over to the shoulder. At that precise moment, the concrete ribbon twisted sharply to the right in a nasty hairpin curve. It snaked around in a desperate curl that’s caught him by complete surprise, and he stupidly mashed the brake pedal much too hard. The tires screamed noisily as they painted heavy streaks of hot black rubber on the narrow concrete roadway. The tail end of the car began to swing around, and instinctively he twisted the wheel to the left to steer into the skid. This action was now bringing him too close to the left-hand shoulder where large, protruding boulders threatened destruction to his car. Just a few feet beyond the rocks, the road dropped off into a deep; seemingly bottomless chasm. He cursed aloud for allowing the turn to surprise him. Then just before the unavoidable crash into the rocky shoulder, he took his foot off the brake, turned hard to the right and with earnest passion, stomped hard on the gas pedal. The broad tires of the Corvette screeched fiercely as they chewed hungrily at the dry cement. If the... ... middle of paper ... ...hew Banks looked around for the creature belonging to the voice and found her sitting lazily on a rickety cane backed chair behind the counter with a long filtered cigarette dangling loosely from her lips. She stood up with an audible effort. She was dressed in a large, flowered sleeveless smock that long ago had seen better days. The raw boned woman reminded him of the pictures he’d seen of Appalachian type families although right now he couldn’t recall whether it was in the Ozark Mountains or somewhere in Kentucky. Her deeply weathered skin clearly got that way from spending her youth in the blazing Texas sun. Matt credited the coarseness in her voice to untold packs of cigarettes she had smoked, and with more than just a nip or two of cheap whiskey. Wrinkles covered her face like a creased old buckskin coat tossed in a pile on the closet floor for too long.
		Mattie, the sole owner of a shop named "Jesus is Lord Used Tires", was accustomed to changing and rotating tires everyday. One day she received a customer who had driven over some cracked glass pieces on the side of the road. Mattie took standard procedures by lifting the car, taking out the tire, and finally dipping it to see if air bubbles would come up. "I'm sorry to tell you, hon, these are bad. I can tell you right now these aren't going to hold a patch. They're shot through." (page 40). Mattie was exceptionally nice to Taylor and told her to come inside and have some coffee. After drinking a cup of coffee and giving Turtle some juice Mattie came up with the idea that Taylor could work for her. Taylor being the one who doesn't like tires in the first place accepted the generous offer, but went almost nuts with the huge tire wall that surrounded her. Taylor was a good worker and didn't have any real complaints about her position, but she still had a fear of exploding tires. This fear was noticeable to Mattie. Mattie being the rough-tough but nice person, asked Taylor nicely to follow her, when suddenly Mattie threw a 5-gallon Jerry can at her. "Knocked the wind out of you, but it didn't kill you, right?" "That's twenty-eight pounds of water. Twenty-eight pounds of air is about what you put into a tire. When it hits you, that's what it feels like." (page 81).
In geology, it would be known as a debris flow. Debris flow’s a mass in steam valleys and more or less resembles from concrete. They consist of water mixed with a good deal of solid material, most of which is about sand size. Some of it is Chevrolet size. Boulders bigger then cars ride very long distances. Boulders grouped like fish eggs pour quickly downhill. The dark material coming toward the Genefilles was not only full of automobiles that was like bread dough mixed with raisins, making its way down Pinecone road, it plucked up cars from and the street. When it crashed into the Genefilles house, the shattering of safety glass made a terrific explosion sound.
The story opens not with an image but with a sound ? that of the grandmother talking, incessantly and determinedly, as she does throughout the tale. Thus, in these opening sentences, we are already being prepared for The Misfit?s remarks at the story?s end, when he characterizes her as ?a talker.?
She imitated Sethe, talked the way she did, laughed her laugh and used her body the same way down to the walk, the way Sethe moved her hands, sighed through her nose, held her head. Sometimes coming upon them making men and women cookies or tacking scraps of cloth on Baby Suggs’ old quilt, it was difficult for Denver to tell who was who. Then the mood changed and the arguments began. Slowly at first. A complaint from Beloved, an apology from Sethe. A reduction of pleasure at some special effort the older woman made. Wasn’t it too cold to stay outside? Beloved gave a look that said, So what? Was it past bedtime, the light no good for sewing? Beloved didn’t move; said, ‘Do it,’ and Sethe complied”
Mahoney was traveling north in the southbound lane at an extremely high amount of speed. The right front of the pickup truck hit the right front of the bus, breaking off the bus’s suspension and driving the leaf spring backward into the gas tank mounted outside the frame, just behind the front door. The spring speared the sixty-gallon tank, which had just been filled ten minutes earlier, punching a two and a half-inch hole in it. The gas tank caught fire and killed twenty-seven of the sixty-seven people on board. If the pickup had hit a few inches to the right, it would have been stopped by the bus’s frame rail instead of shearing trough sheet metal toward the fuel tank.
The narrative voice in this selection clearly demonstrates the qualities of the main character, the narrator. Through the diction and tone contained within the narrative voice, it is obvious that Sammy is still in his teens and has a very mature perception of women.
Her eyes were blue with age. Her skin had a pattern of its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as though a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her checks were illuminated by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the red rag her hair came down on her neck in the frailest of ringlets, still black, and with an odor like copper.
Our backs hunched over as we started lifting sustainable sandbags with our drained muscular arms onto a dark wooden shelf. The scorching sun heated up the unswept metal fence behind us. Our feet were burning as we stood on the blistering concrete floor. We were sweating from every inch of our dried out body’s. Looking around the isolated area the smell of freshly cut grass starts to fill up in the atmosphere. The crinkled brown autumn leaves abandoned the thin branches sticking out from the ancient oak tree stood in front of us. A mysterious slim figure approached us from the distance. As the strange shadow got closer to me I could see a velvet red knee high dress blowing in the wind; bright red lipstick on a slim face, it became clear to me that it was Curley’s wife! Her devilish eyes looked deep into our sole as she stroked silky, exotic hair with her perfectly painted, red finger nails. “Hey boys” she called. I looked away with no interest; Lennie followed my lead. Her face went from a cheery smile to a sulky frown and she bashfully strolled
3.?Against the dark background of the kitchen she stood up tall and angular, one hand drawing a quilted counterpane to her flat breast, while the other held a lamp. The light on a level with her chin, drew out of the darkness her puckered throat and the projecting wrist of the hand that clutched the quilt, and deepened fantastically the hollows and prominences of her high-boned face under its rings of crimping-pins. To Ethan, s...
“August 2000, our family of six was on the way to a wedding. It was a rainy day, and Gregg was not familiar with the area. The car hit standing water in the high-way, and started hydro-planing. Greg lost control of the car. Then, the car went backwards down into a ditch and started sliding on its wheels sideways. After sliding for 100 feet or so, the car flipped, at least once. After flipping, the car came to rest on its wheels, and the passenger window broke out.
I climbed upstairs, seething with a rage mixed with adolescent hormones and self pity. I reached my bedroom, threw back the drapes, approached the window from where the air conditioner was perched and jerked open the window. To my horror, the air conditioner tumbled backwards out the window, end over end and landed squarely on the roof of my fathers two day old Buick. The Buick roof crumpled like a piece of paper. Meanwhile, the air conditioner had bounced off the car and landed sharply on our paved driveway. The whole incident took no more than a few seconds and yet my mind played it back in horrific, slow motion. I surveyed the scene. My dad's Buick looked like somebody had taken a sledge hammer and swung a lethal blow to its middle. The air conditioner lay in a heap of scrap metal beside the car.
Also make sure that the vehicle is on level grounds and set the emergency brake. After these few steps the person is ready to begin the process of changing a flat tire. It all began when it was, a hot sunny day on the island of Anguilla, and Dawne felt like going to the beach down Shoal Bay that is close to the new villa they’re building. Before Dawne went to the beach, she swung by a construction site of the villa to see how it looks. The villa looked good, but cannot say it for Dawne’s vehicle that had a flat tire. So the chances are that Dawne ran her jeep, a nice gold Hyundai Tucson 2006 v6 engine over pointy objects. For instance, a nail, while Dawne drove to the construction site in Shoal Bay, Anguilla. The name of the villa is Zemi Beach. Zemi Beach is a beachfront real estate development on Shoal Bay, Anguilla. When Dawne got back to her vehicle, she notices that the front tire is flat on the driver’s side of her jeep. Dawne inspected the front tire on the driver’s side, and she found the nail, she drove on. This took place, on the eastern side of the island with nobody in sight, but her. Dawne sated in her vehicle mad as ever, she started cussing at herself. Dawne
Logan was on his way home from an evening at the local bar. He and some friends had gone out to have a couple beers. As he sped down the road, he blinked vigorously to try to clear his vision. Although it was a perfectly clear summer night, Logan’s vision was blurred from the alcohol. “As long as I keep this car on my side of the road, I’ll be fine,” he thought to himself. He was doing a decent job of obtaining control over the vehicle, or so he thought. Only three miles from his country home, he became unaware of his position on the road as it began to curve. As he continued around the familiar curve in the road, a truck came out of nowhere at hit Logan’s small Toyota Camry head on. The big F-350 pickup truck was no comparison to the little
Her character is portrayed as being anxious through the author’s choice of dialogue in the form of diction, which is “waves of her [the mother] anxiety sink down into my belly”. The effect of this is to allow the readers to establish the emotions of the narrator, as well as establish an the uneasy tone of the passage, and how stressful and important the event of selling tobacco bales for her family is. Additionally, the narrator is seen to be uncomfortable in the setting she is present in. This is seen through the many dashes and pauses within her thoughts because she has no dialogue within this passage, “wishing- we- weren’t- here”, the dashes show her discomfort because the thought is extended, and thus more intense and heavy, wishing they could be somewhere else. The effect of the narrator’s comfort establishes her role within the family, the reason she and her sister does not have dialogue symbolizes that she has no voice within the family, as well as establishing hierarchy. The authors use dictation and writing conventions to develop the character of the narrator herself, as well as the mother. The narrator’s focus on each of her parents is additionally highlighted through
With music blasting, voices singing and talking, it was another typical ride to school with my sister. Because of our belated departure, I went fast, too fast. We started down the first road to our destination. This road is about three miles long and filled with little hills. As we broke the top of one of the small, blind hills in the middle of the right lane was a dead deer. Without any thought, purely by instinct I pulled the wheel of the car to the left and back over to the right. No big deal but I was going fast. The car swerved back to the left, to the right, to the left. Each time I could feel the car scratching the earth with its side. My body jolted with the sporadic movements of the car. The car swerved to the right for the last time. With my eyes sealed tight, I could feel my body float off the seat of the car.