Offroad Quotes

Stephanie Plum, off-road warrior. Now this was the way it should be, I thought. Taking action. Hauling ass in the woods behind Diesel. Well, okay – truthfully, I wanted to be in front of Diesel. I wanted to ride point, lead the charge, be the big kahuna. Unfortunately, Diesel was the one who’d memorized the aerial map. And he was supposedly the one with super senses. ‘Big whoop-de-do, super senses,’ I said. ‘I heard that,’ Diesel yelled back to me. ‘No, you didn’t.’ ‘Yes. I did.

Most drivers don’t buy expensive off-road-capable vehicles because they actually drive off the road. They buy them because off-road capability makes them feel adventurous and bold, capable of meeting any driving challenge.

There comes a time in life when a person has to decide whether they’re going to continue down the same well-marked path they’ve been traveling for far too long or whether they’re going to jump the guardrails and go offroad.

Human life is a passage - it's simply a crossing to somewhere else. Most people stay on the highway, but some choose to go off-road. Don't ever be afraid to drive off the road and into the grass. You never know what you might find there. And don't regret your choices. We all make mistakes, and sometimes they'll be huge ones. But don't despair. In the long run you'll travel so far down the road that you won't be able to see those mistakes behind you. Just put one foot in front of the other, and you'll do just fine.

You're here because you know what it's like to feel powerless. Everyone you see here has been given every privilege that money can buy, but at the end of the day, there are some privileges that money can't buy. Money doesn't keep people from telling girls who look like me to go back to the other side of the border. And no matter what your family name is, or how white your skin, I'm willing to bet that there are still people who tell you to smile, because you look so pretty when you smile." She paused, just for an instant. "we all play by rules our brothers will never even have to know. "You want to know why we go cliff-diving and off-roading and drag you out to abandoned islands in the night?" Victoria's voice was no louder, but her delivery was suddenly crystal clear. "Because we can. Because when people say that well-behaved women rarely make history, they leave out the little tidbit that the women who do make history rarely do so alone.

His eyes forward didn’t deviate from the off-road trail, his chiseled jaw gripped shut during the ride. He didn’t release any sound of explanation until we arrived.

I'm sure you're used to hillbilly parents yelping adulation at you as they attempt to impregnate the tailpipes of various off-road vehicles.

I'm sure you're used to hillbilly parents yelping adulation at you as they attempt to impregnate the tailpipes of various off-road vehicles.

Any car is an off-road vehicle if you try hard enough" -Razordemon, Shadowrealm

Unmolested and with grass to eat, a tortoise can live eighty years. Their populations have plummeted in the Mojave in recent years, victims of a perfect storm of drought, sprawl development, solar energy projects, off-road vehicle enthusiasts (who crush them under their wheels), poaching, vandals with pistols (who use them for target practice), and, not least, livestock grazing.

With me as your husband? Infatuated. Obviously.” He glanced sideways and caught her eye roll. “I’m pretty sure it’s your fault,” he added. “You wanted to go off-road.” “Please. A woman who wants a five-star hotel and sex isn’t going to beg to ride off-road on terrain likely to make you a soprano.” “Sweetheart, there’s no need to worry in that department.” “I’ll be the judge of that.” “I can’t wait.

They have come across an aspect of product performance about a brand that is startlingly impressive: that a Land Rover is designed to be able to drive 4,000 miles continually off-road, for example; that the airline I flew in on this morning had a masseuse on the plane that gave me a neck massage when I woke up; or that an ice cream that was forced upon me last night contained preposterously large chunks of Toffee Chocolate Fudge.

The thick ropes of his control began to unravel. When she curled both arms around his neck, it seemed natural to place his around her waist and pick her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips, bringing herself in direct contact with his hard-on. It was paradise. It was pure torture. He swore. She broke the kiss and smiled at him. “So you find me annoying, but you still want me,” she whispered. “I don’t find you annoying.” He pushed against her crotch. “I don’t find you annoying, either.” He read the passion in her eyes and knew she was more than willing to take things to the next level. He glanced around, searching for a soft, private spot, only to realize they were out in the open and likely to be discovered any second. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t smart, and he didn’t have a condom with him. Phoebe deserved a whole lot better. “I want you,” he told her. She tightened her legs around him. “Me, too.” Color stained her cheeks. “I’ve never said that to a man before.” Zane realized he hadn’t told a woman, either. He’d shown her, but he’d never actually spoken the words. Phoebe was changing him in all kinds of ways. He wanted her with a desperation he’d never felt before. And yet… “We can’t,” he said gently, ignoring the hardness and the pain in his groin. “You deserve better than something hot and fast up against a tree.” She swallowed. “I’m not so sure about that.” “I am.” “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. Had she been anyone else, he would have said the hell with it and taken what she offered. But she was Phoebe. From behind them came the sound of a car horn honking, and then another. They couldn’t see anything through the trees, but they heard laughter drifting toward them as at least a couple of off-road vehicles drove slowly past. “Sounds like we have company,” he said. “We’re close to Stryker land. Guess they decided to say hi. You go on ahead. I need a few minutes.” When he pointed at the front of his jeans, she blushed. “Oh. I see your problem. Well, you could walk right behind me and no one would notice.” He chuckled. “I’ll wait it out. Go on.” “Okay.” She headed toward camp. Zane watched her go, taking in the sway of her hips and the wave she gave him right before she disappeared.

They were all still children, following the paths through the dark forest that they had been set down by their heritage, their parents, their birth, and that made Lydia grind her teeth. She wanted to go off-road.

A reasonable expectation was that performance in the fourth group of participants would reflect the additive impact of these two groups: four hours of sleep plus the effect of alcohol (i.e., twelve times more off-road deviations). It was far worse. This group of participants drove off the road almost thirty times more than the well-rested, sober group. The heady cocktail of sleep loss and alcohol was not additive, but instead multiplicative.

We spent twenty days and endured three thousand miles of jolting, pounding, off-road bush driving. But we had a hard-won sense of accomplishment when we pulled up on the stunning cliff-side view of the Great Australian Bight, a huge open bay carved out of the southern coastline. We had made it. Below us, three hundred feet down a sheer rock face, was the Southern Ocean. A pod of southern right whales passed by, their calves following along with them. Steve and I and the crew watched the family dramas of the whales play out below us. A calf felt naughty and went darting away from his mother’s side. Come back, the mother called, come back, come back, you naughty little whale. When she was under the water, we couldn’t hear anything, but as she surfaced we could actually hear the whale song from our perch three hundred feet in the air. Mama scolded the calf, and we saw the young whale come dutifully shooting back over to follow his mother for a while. Sometimes the calf would approach his mama for a drink of milk and nurse for a few minutes. Then he would escape once more, and the whole scenario played itself out all over again. We watched the whales for hours. That night around the campfire, we discussed whaling, how sad and cruel and horrible it was. “If we killed cows the way we killed whales, people wouldn’t stand for it,” Steve said. “Imagine if you drove a truck with a torpedo gun off the back. When you saw a cow you fired at it, and then you either electrocuted it over the course of half an hour or the head of the torpedo blew up inside of it, rendering it unable to walk or move until it finally bled to death.” “We’ve got to get that message out,” I said to Steve. But his idea was to bring the beauty and joy of the whales to people, so that they would naturally fall in love with them and not want to hurt them. He didn’t want to dwell on images that would make people sad and upset. Steve remained thoughtful and silent as the fire died. The ocean sounded against the cliffs below. The games of the whale families played over and over in our minds. In spite of our extensive searching, we never saw a live dingo down the whole line of our journey. It was time to try a different approach. The next morning the helicopter pilot arrived early. Going up with him, Steve actually finally spotted some dingoes from the air. The beautiful, ginger-colored dogs played along the fence, jumping over it or skirting under it with effortless ease.

Cissy had proven to be a major asset during the journey home. Fueled by journalistic pride and booze, she drove ahead of Cormac, honking at oncoming traffic to make sure that they allowed the Volvo ample clearance. At one point in time, she tried to lead them on a shortcut through a city park. Cormac didn't think the couch could handle an off-road journey, so he stuck to the road. Cissy later confirmed that she'd actually nodded off at the wheel. She said that she'd hit a goose, and would prefer not to discuss it.

When you hit that fork in the road, who said you had to go left or right? I'm going off-roading and making my own path.

I’m certain the whole machine is going to slide out from under us, but my wolf is in complete control. We turn and head upward into the forest. It's a barely formed track, and the off-road bike makes easy work of the rough terrain. We climb and weave our way deeper

the first Grand Challenge, held in 2004, was a flop. The best that any vehicle could manage was just 7.5 miles on the 142-mile course in the rugged desert on the California-Nevada border. Yet this failure was also a success. “The first competition created a community of innovators, engineers, students, programmers, off-road racers, backyard mechanics, inventors, and dreamers,” said a DARPA official. “The fresh thinking they brought was the spark.

I know an off-road track just up ahead,

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I'm an expert at navigating life off-road.

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Mit einem speziellen Offroad-Paket ergänzt der G 350 d Professional das Angebot der G-Klasse. 2017 Im österreichischen Graz, im Magna Steyr-Werk, läuft die 300.000ste Mercedes-Benz G-Klasse vom Band.

One of Jason’s favorite expressions is “We don’t have rules—we have guardrails.” But if you go off-roading, you’re still on the hook for things like security and resiliency, which makes the paved path look all the more attractive.

Off-road running is a metaphor for life – on the assumption that we don’t know exactly where we’re going, we may get lost, we’ll probably have to stop somewhere to take stock of the magnificent surroundings, we may spend huge amounts of time clambering over, under or through things, and by the time we’re almost finished we’ll be too busy marvelling at what we’ve just experienced to notice we got to the end.

Meditation is like driving a car but not on a city street - where you follow rules, signals, speed limits. Meditation is off-road driving where you make your own path and drive as per your own rules and as a result, you enjoy both the drive and the journey!

The trainees had nicknamed the vehicles ‘mongooses’ after a similar off-road transport in Halo,

Another Mountain Bike Hall of Famer, Laird Knight, created 24-hour MTB racing – where riders attempt as many loops of a technical off-road course in 24 hours as possible – as a team pursuit. In 1996 Stamstad entered a 24-hour race in Canaan as a team, but all four names on the sheet were a variation of his own. He did the event solo, beat most of the field and invented a new form of endurance racing.

I grabbed the oh-shit handle with one hand and whooped, bracing the other hand on the dashboard. I couldn’t help myself. Everything was going to hell, George was dead, and I was on my way to commit either treason or suicide, but who the hell cared? I was off-roading across a river in a government SUV. Sometimes, you just gotta kick back and enjoy what’s going on around you.

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If you want to find a new career path later in life, you may have to do some off-roading.