Ignition Switch Quotes

Switch spots with me, J. He's making me feel all goosebumpy and shit, like maybe he's about to knife me.

If you believe you can, you probably can. If you believe you won't, you most assuredly won't. Belief is the ignition switch that gets you off the launching pad.

Winston hits a switch. The lights go out. There’s a rustle of blankets. “If I hear any of you talk,” Winston says, “I will personally send Brendan over to kick you in the face.” “I am not going to kick anyone in the face.” “Kick yourself in the face, Brendan.” “I don’t even know why we’re friends.

Thoughtfully or thoughtlessly he had left the keys in the ignition, and I switched on the radio. It was tuned to WQED. A local arts reporter I didn’t particularly admire was interviewing old Q. about his life and work and personal demons. I reflected for a moment on the journalistic euphemism that allowed personal demons to writers who were only fucked up.

Winston hits a switch. The lights go out. There's a rustle of blankets. 'If I hear any of you talk,' Winston says. 'I will personally send Brendan over to kick you in the face.' 'I am not going to kick anyone in the face.' 'Kick yourself in the face, Brendan.' 'I don't even know why we're friends.' 'Please shut up,' Lily shouts from her corner. 'You heard the lady,' Winston says. 'Everyone shut up.' 'You're the one talking dumbass,' Ian says. 'Brendan, kick him in the face, please.' 'Shut up, mate, I am not kicking any-' 'Good Night,' Castle says. Everyone stops breathing. 'Good night, sir,' Kenji whispers. I roll over so I'm face-to-face with Kenji. He grins at me in the dark. I grin back. 'Good night,' I mouth. He winks at me.

Another bottle was brought out and poured into the reservoir. Once more I climbed inside the car and pressed the spurter button. Once more nothing happened--and once more, when we looked inside the reservoir, we found it empty. "Two litres!" I said. "Where has it all gone?" They'd vaporized, evaporated. And do you know what? It felt wonderful. Don't ask me why: it just did. It was as though I'd just witnessed a miracle: matter--these two litres of liquid--becoming un-matter--not surplus matter, mess or clutter, but pure, bodiless blueness. Transubstantiated. I looked up at the sky: it was blue and endless. I looked back at the boy. His overalls and face were covered in smears. He'd taken on these smears so that the miracle could happen, like a Christian martyr being flagellated, crucified, scrawled over with stigmata. I felt elated--elated and inspired. "If only..." I started, but paused. "What?" he asked. "If only everything could..." I trailed off. I knew what I meant. I stood there looking at his grubby face and told him: "Thank you." Then I got into the car and turned the ignition key in its slot. The engine caught--and as it did, a torrent of blue liquid burst out of the dashboard and cascaded down. It gushed from the radio, the heating panel, the hazard-lights switch and the speedometer and mileage counter. It gushed all over me: my shirt, my legs, my groin.

When it passes us, the driver tips his cap our way, eying us as if he thinks we're up to no good-the kind of no good he might call the cops on. I wave to him and smile, wondering if I look as guilty as I feel. Better make this the quickest lesson in driving history. It's not like she needs to pass the state exam. If she can keep the car straight for ten seconds in a row, I've upheld my end of the deal. I turn off the ignition and look at her. "So, how are you and Toraf doing?" She cocks her head at me. "What does that have to do with driving?" Aside from delaying it? "Nothing," I say, shrugging. "Just wondering." She pulls down the visor and flips open the mirror. Using her index finger, she unsmudges the mascara Rachel put on her. "Not that it's your business, but we're fine. We were always fine." "He didn't seem to think so." She shoots me a look. "He can be oversensitive sometimes. I explained that to him." Oversensitive? No way. She's not getting off that easy. "He's a good kisser," I tell her, bracing myself. She turns in her seat, eyes narrowed to slits. "You might as well forget about that kiss, Emma. He's mine, and if you put your nasty Half-Breed lips on him again-" "Now who's being oversensitive?" I say, grinning. She does love him. "Switch places with me," she snarls. But I'm too happy for Toraf to return the animosity. Once she's in the driver's seat, her attitude changes. She bounces up and down like she's mattress shopping, getting so much air that she'd puncture the top if I hadn't put it down already. She reaches for the keys in the ignition. I grab her hand. "Nope. Buckle up first." It's almost cliché for her to roll her eyes now, but she does. When she's finished dramatizing the act of buckling her seat belt-complete with tugging on it to make sure it won't unclick-she turns to me in pouty expectation. I nod. She wrenches the key and the engine fires up. The distant look in her eyes makes me nervous. Or maybe it's the guilt swirling around in my stomach. Galen might not like this car, but it still feels like sacrilege to put the fate of a BMW in Rayna's novice hands. As she grips the gear stick so hard her knuckles turn white, I thank God this is an automatic. "D is for drive, right?" she says. "Yes. The right pedal is to go. The left pedal is to stop. You have to step on the left one to change into drive." "I know. I saw you do it." She mashes down on the brake, then throws us into drive. But we don't move. "Okay, now you'll want to step on the right pedal, which is the gas-" The tires start spinning-and so do we. Rayna stares at me wide-eyed and mouth ajar, which isn't a good thing since her hands are on the wheel. It occurs to me that she's screaming, but I can't hear her over my own screeching. The dust wall we've created whirls around us, blocking our view of the trees and the road and life as we knew it. "Take your foot off the right one!" I yell. We stop so hard my teeth feel rattled. "Are you trying to get us killed?" she howls, holding her hand to her cheek as if I've slapped her. Her eyes are wild and glassy; she just might cry. "Are you freaking kidding me? You're the one driving!

Despite international calls for Chernobyl to be decommissioned at once, it endured a very gradual demise. On October 11th, 1991, just five years after the Unit 4 explosion, there was a third major accident at the plant, this time at Unit 2. Prior to the event, the Unit had been taken offline following another accident - this time a fire in its section of the turbine hall, which had broken out during minor turbogenerator repair work. After extinguishing the blaze, the generator had been isolated and its turbine coasted down to about 150 rpm when a faulty breaker switch closed, reconnecting it to the grid. The turbine rapidly sped up to 3000 rpm in under 30 seconds, then, according to a 1993 report by the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission, “the influx of current to TG-4 overheated the conductor elements and caused a rapid degradation of the mechanical end joints of the rotor and excitation windings. A centrifugal imbalance developed and damaged generator bearings 10 through 14 and the seal oil system, allowing hydrogen gas and seal oil to leak from the generator enclosure. Electrical arcing and frictional heat ignited the leaking hydrogen and seal oil creating hydrogen flames 8 meters high, and dense smoke which obstructed the visibility of plant personnel. When the burning oil reached the busbar of the generator it caused a three-phase 120,000-amp short circuit.”265

Actually, that makes it all sound far too utilitarian since every model also came with an ignition switch, a joystick to steer by and two cunning pedals – one for “go” and one for “stop”. These were even labelled Acceleratrix and Enstopinator.

Fallout avoid a DUI Lawyer The brutal truth is that this effect swallowing and is surprisingly stiff back. Problems and opportunities caused by drunk drivers are frightening. There is a reasonable demand and good heavy penalties only in the hope of avoiding a criminal. The reality is, sad to say, people that many of us are caught up in their original crimes and facing a big change in everyday life and dangerous consequences. Across the country, low crime rate and reduce contains a number from the understanding of the consequences of the ever more stringent. Privileges rear suspension imprisonment, fines, ignition programs and more are binding on all the possibilities and potential impact. Ideal to this procedure, which is full of dangers and pitfalls, in the sense of finding a positive DUI lawyers to get form? Unfortunately, it may be impossible, and many so-called authorities, the practical experience of the senses, a goat for certain customers. An important aspect is the number of measurements to choose high quality coming DUI lawyers. Breakfast is my way to someone who has experience to fulfill. This means that someone who had the food study drunken 50 penalties. He wanted to try, if someone who works mainly candidates with DUI Lawyers. This special mention of the many methods that come from expected with this film with less destructive. On your own, because you to maintain a professional DUI law towards pace, the situation in other readouts. It seems contradictory, but even if someone switches deftly defended many conditions, but also a person who to stay away from the demonstration says. The demo is the last thing should be, especially if they are responsible for themselves. As an alternative to the other, determine the direction of an attorney who is familiar with the specifics of the work and to help to suspend the license and, hopefully, to inform the prosecution of more than a very low price or misplaced. Sometimes the profits to avoid the interest rate and the term of the hard disk, especially for lawyer’s first area infringer years drunk help of the beautiful region. Other cases are in different directions, which can be implemented, which may contribute to an excellent result. The only way to get the opportunity of a personal imaginary profession rather than receiving. Inevitably, any DUI lawyer to explain myself properly to you from serious sanctions targeting drunken price almost never consumed and protect commitment. Can these days of increased restrictions reduce patrols and even a person consumes also be a number. Whatever complaints taxis, sleeping on the couch or taking a walk on the estate has raised overnight in prisons and the ability to deal with this part of the transaction. Even at a time when the only work in the easiest possible development is still very worrying turning point in history and let yourself.

Anal sex was my least favorite bedroom activity. Even through half a bottle of lube, the whole charade felt like pooping backwards. It was a negotiation token- something I begrudgingly did in exchange for backrubs and switching the television from football to Sex in the City. Anal sex was something I tolerated in order to be a cool girlfriend, because it was and still is common knowledge that that men love shoving their dicks in buttholes. Male buttholes, however, had their own rules and regulations. Everyone knew that men who allowed rectal access were gay. I didn’t question it. I didn’t analyze it. I only knew to treat the male asshole as if it had a grenade buried inside of it that could ignite a deadly explosion of anger, trauma, and sexual confusion.

He was about to drive over to see Ralph at his home when he stopped reaching for the key in the ignition switch as a cautionary thought came to him like someone waving a huge red flag in front of his eyes.

They have trigger safety switches that have to be flipped before you can ignite the firearm.

A successful person realizes his personal responsibility for self-motivation. He starts with himself because he possesses the key to his own ignition switch.

From what Steel was learning, the language of the deals made them look less like aboveboard legal transactions and more like cover-ups. The agreements included one restrictive clause after another. The women were obliged to turn over all their evidence—audio recordings, diaries, emails, backup files, any other shred of proof—to O’Reilly and his lawyers. They and in one case their attorneys were prohibited from helping any other women who might have similar claims against the host. If they received subpoenas compelling them to talk, they were required to notify O’Reilly and his team, who could fight their being called to testify. The lawyer for one of the women agreed to switch sides, to “provide legal advice to O’Reilly regarding sexual harassment matters,” according to the language of the agreement. Another of the alleged victims promised never to make disparaging statements about O’Reilly or Fox News, “written or oral, direct or indirect,” and not to respond—ever—to any journalists who might contact her about the matter. As part of the deal, she confirmed that she had not filed a complaint with any of the government agencies responsible for fighting sexual harassment, including the EEOC. In return, one alleged victim received about $9 million, and another got $3.25 million. If either woman violated any of these clauses, she could lose the money. Whatever O’Reilly had or hadn’t done to the women was thus dropped down a deep well, never to be recovered. Cash for silence; that was the deal.

The explosion At first the crew thought a meteoroid had hit them. As well as the noise of an explosion, the electrics were going haywire and the attitude control thrusters had fired. In fact, a short circuit had ignited some insulation in the Number 2 oxygen tank of the Service Module. The Service Module provided life support, power and other systems to the Command Module, which held the astronauts as they travelled to and from lunar orbit. The Lunar Module was a separate, though connected, craft that would be used to ferry the men to the lunar surface and back. The fire caused a surge in pressure that ruptured the tank, flooding the fuel cell bay with gaseous oxygen. This surge blew the bolts holding on the outer panel, which tore off free and spun into space, damaging a communications antenna. Contact with Earth was lost for 1.8 seconds, until the system automatically switched to another antenna. The shock also ruptured a line from the Number 1 oxygen tank. Two hours later all of the Service Module’s oxygen supply had leaked into the void. As the Command Module’s fuel cells used oxygen with hydrogen to generate electricity, it could now only run on battery power. The crew had no option but to shut down the Command Module completely and move into the Lunar Module. They would then use this as a ‘lifeboat’ for the journey back to Earth before rejoining the Command Module for re-entry. As for the mission, the Service Module was so badly damaged that a safe return from a lunar landing was impossible. These men would not be landing on the Moon. 320,000 km from home The Flight Director immediately aborted the mission. Now he just had to get the men home. The quickest way would be a Direct Abort trajectory, using the Service Module engine to essentially reverse the craft. But it was too late:

At noon one day Will Hamilton came roaring and bumping up the road in a new Ford. The engine raced in its low gear, and the high top swayed like a storm-driven ship. The brass radiator and the Prestolite tank on the running board were blinding with brass polish. Will pulled up the brake lever, turned the switch straight down, and sat back in the leather seat. The car backfired several times without ignition because it was overheated. “Here she is!” Will called with a false enthusiasm. He hated Fords with a deadly hatred, but they were daily building his fortune. Adam and Lee hung over the exposed insides of the car while Will Hamilton, puffing under the burden of his new fat, explained the workings of a mechanism he did not understand himself. It is hard now to imagine the difficulty of learning to start, drive, and maintain an automobile. Not only was the whole process complicated, but one had to start from scratch. Today’s children breathe in the theory, habits, and idiosyncracies of the internal combustion engine in their cradles, but then you started with the blank belief that it would not run at all, and sometimes you were right. Also, to start the engine of a modern car you do just two things, turn a key and touch the starter. Everything else is automatic. The process used to be more complicated. It required not only a good memory, a strong arm, an angelic temper, and a blind hope, but also a certain amount of practice of magic, so that a man about to turn the crank of a Model T might be seen to spit on the ground and whisper a spell. Will Hamilton explained the car and went back and explained it again. His customers were wide-eyed, interested as terriers, cooperative, and did not interrupt, but as he began for the third time Will saw that he was getting no place. “Tell you what!” he said brightly. “You see, this isn’t my line. I wanted you to see her and listen to her before I made delivery. Now, I’ll go back to town and tomorrow I’ll send out this car with an expert, and he’ll tell you more in a few minutes than I could in a week. But I just wanted you to see her.” Will had forgotten some of his own instructions. He cranked for a while and then borrowed a buggy and a horse from Adam and drove to town, but he promised to have a mechanic out the next day.

She died three days after the official recall notice from General Motors arrived in the mail. It was the third recall on the car, a white 2006 Saturn Ion; this time the problem was a defective ignition switch that could shut off power and disable the power steering, brakes and air bags.

Many computers and microprocessors use software preserved and recycled from the earliest days of computers, when memory space, at $600,000 per megabyte, was more valuable than gold. To save expensive space, the early programmers tracked dates with only the last two numbers of the year. This convention of employing two-digit date fields was carried over into most software employed in mainframe computers, and even found wide use in personal computers and so-called embedded chips, microprocessors that are used to control almost everything, from VCRs to car ignition systems, security systems, telephones, the switching systems that control the telephone network, process and control systems in factories, power plants, oil refineries, chemical plants, pipelines and much more. Thus, abbreviated into a two-digit field, the year 1999 would be “99.” The trouble is what happens when 00 comes up for

General Motors announced further recalls. The total number of vehicles it is planning to bring in globally this year now stands at 15.6m, 50% more than the number of cars it sold in 2013. Problems in the latest batch include airbags that could not fully inflate and fraying seat belts. GM has been strongly criticised for having been slow to recall cars with a defective ignition switch linked to a dozen deaths.

First, you must light a middling fire under the cauldron.” “What’s a middling fire?” “Medium.” I searched the pot. “Where’s the ignition switch?” Bridget leaned in and whispered, “You use magic to start the fire.

He didn’t take her back to the shooting range right away. There was a lookout point between here and there. Linc swerved the dark cobalt car into it, pulling alongside the rock wall and switching the engine off. They had the lookout to themselves. “Why are we stopping?” she asked. Rhetorically. “Great view.” She glanced at the distant DC skyline, seeing the dome of the Capitol to the east and the tip of the Washington Monument. The Mall, its grassy expanse invisible from where they were, stretched to the Lincoln Memorial at the other end. Its blocky rectangular top appeared through the bare-branched trees. “Sure is.” Kenzie tossed her handbag into the footwell and turned to him. That grin on his handsome face was not about sightseeing. She allowed herself the pleasure of looking him over one last time. He pretended not to notice. Even looking straight ahead through the windshield, his dark eyes had a knowing glint. It was arrogant of him to assume that he knew what she wanted, even though he was right. And annoying of him to wait for her to make the first move. One strong hand rested on the wheel and the other on his thigh. Kenzie unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over. Two could play that game. She put her lips against his ear and he stiffened visibly. “What’s on your mind, Linc?” she breathed, teasing him. She was amused to see his eyes close with pleasure. Maybe he hadn’t been expecting her to say something like that. Too bad. She’d said it. Kenzie slid her hand over his smooth-shaven jaw and turned his face to hers. Wow. His gaze burned with passion. She’d never seen Linc like this. He was all man and then some. Hard to say who began the kiss, but it went on for a while. She didn’t remember taking the knot out of his tie, which hung open. A couple of buttons had parted company with the buttonholes on his shirt. Linc sat back when she did. “Wow. I mean, maybe you should take me home,” she said. “Not that I don’t want more, but--” Linc nodded, turning the key in the ignition until the engine revved. “Tell me when, Kenzie. That’s all I ask.

You didn't even know of my existence a month ago." "But I did. I've known your existence for over eight years, ever since my man of business returned to Boston from England and told me that the duke of Magnus had been blessed with a daughter. A most beautiful daughter." He placed the book back on the shelf, and he didn't need the stool. "My man of business did not exaggerate." Disconcerted, Eleanor said, "Well... thank you." Although he was speaking of Madeline, he was looking at her. She knew, without conceit, that she was attractive. One less-than-honorable Englishman, who'd seen the opportunity to seduce a pretty girl, had told her she was more handsome than her cousin. But when Mr. Knight gazed at her, that tiny flame his touch had ignited spread though her veins. That flame, and the attendant warmth, were bad things. Very bad things.