Rusty Lake Quotes

They were assembling a rocket there. It was a big rocket. It all more or less made sense. There was no cargo too big to be barged up the Columbia River and then trucked the last few miles to Moses Lake. There was no airplane that couldn’t be accommodated by that runway. There was no object that the aerospace machine shops of the Seattle area couldn’t build. And from this latitude, the same as Baikonur, a well-worn and understood flight plan could take payloads to Izzy. A mere four days later, Doob stood in the bed of a rusty pickup truck with a random assortment of space rednecks, hoisting a longnecked beer bottle into the sky in emulation of the rocket lifting off from the pad. They all hooted and screamed as they watched it arc gracefully downrange and take off in the general direction of Boise. And the next morning, when they had all sobered up, they got busy building another rocket.

C’mere. I want to hold you.” He led her over to the padded window seat, where he sat with his back against the wall and one leg spread along the length of the seat. He pulled her down between his legs, wrapped his arms around her and their children, and stared out at the view of Hummingbird Lake and Sinner’s Prayer Pass beyond. So beautiful. So joyous. He cleared his throat against a lump of emotion, then patted her tummy. “How about Beryl and Beulah? Beryl and Beulah Callahan. What do you … whoa! Did you feel that kick?” “A reaction to the name, I’m sure,” she dryly replied. “So, what do you think?” He nuzzled her neck. “I think you’re a bit rusty at picking names. We’ll work on it.