Shell Gasoline Quotes

It proved almost impossible to square the circle of ensuring crew safety and comfort when trapped in a riveted or welded steel shell of stored gasoline, high-explosive shells and machine gun bullets, sparking engine plugs, and incoming projectiles.

You know my Dahlia, independent as always,” the older man says fondly. “We found out one of our daughter’s schoolmates was bullying her. Dahlia stormed out of the house with two cans of gasoline, a blow torch, and a bad attitude.” He looks down at his watch and nods. “She should be burning their house down right about now. She’ll join us when she’s done and if anyone comes asking, two hundred witnesses will claim she was here all night.” His eyes lift above my shoulder and soften. “Oh, look. She’s ahead of schedule,” he says adoringly.

There was rationing of rubber, sugar, gasoline, heating oil, milk, coffee, soap, nylon stockings, and even used cars. The merrily dancing worker/spender bees were gone; thrift, not the “spreading of money,” became the desired norm. The “Consumer’s Pledge,” sung to the tune of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” urged Americans to eschew canned goods in favor of “fresh fruits and vegetables [to] save tons of tin” and to “take the best care of your wearables, and mend them when they tear.” Waste was reviled, and recycling elevated to a patriotic duty.

My teeth clatter in my mouth as everything ripples and shudders in the storm of shells, whining, whizzing. The kid on the bicycle rolls out of sight. Untouched. A miracle. A dream. The shells abruptly cease and there is only the settling creak of the car seat, a scatter of twittering birds in the shrubs and trees. I could use some gum. Where do you buy gum so early besides the service station? It seems wrong to go there since we don't need any gasoline. We don't drive enough. A tank of gas lasts us forever. I get behind the wheel and in the mirror I can see my eyelids fluttering. I sit squeezing the steering wheel until I realize I haven't started the engine. The garage conceals me. I don't want to go out into the open. A horse whinnys – are they bringing up the artillery? It's the farm field where old Wallam tills a little garden, his yard is the biggest and runs alongside the back of ours to the farm where his family has their orchards. What's wrong with me? Sounds of explosions, bullets, voices of men. Volleys. I smell smoke. Burning things, festering ruptured corpses with maggots pulsing under horrible skin and the shells, the horse, it's hit, it shrieks, explodes apart – can we pull the gun by hand? The crew is dead too, bullets are making their bodies jump even after they have broken apart like smashed holiday nuts. I want to scream. Maybe I am? I begin breathing rapidly. I don't know how long I am there but I hear the screen door open and I key the ignition. “Car troubles?” Mr. Kincaid calls out to me from the front porch. “No troubles,” I say setting my arm out the window and holding the mirror to keep my hand steady. “Lovely day.” The sun was really rising, taking the temperature up with it, hot shards of searing light coming over the treetops to stab at everything that couldn't find the shade. I couldn't find the shade.

This is the Prius,” he said. The car he pointed to was a shell with wires hanging out. “It is an example of what they look like when we are done,” he said. This particular examination had proven exceedingly useful because when the second-generation Prius was released in the mid-2000s, some wondered whether Toyota had cheated on the fuel economy tests. Hillebrand’s team had showed that, if the company wanted to, it in fact could game federal evaluators. That was because the car could be programmed with advance knowledge of the curves, stops, and hazards that all automakers knew the test featured. So armed, it could adjust and conserve gasoline. Hillebrand’s team did not demonstrate that the Prius folks did cheat. But the opportunity to do so was sufficient. He sent word to the Environmental Protection Agency, which devised a randomized test that was harder to con.

Tarpon, moray eels, gray mullet, sole, sharks, sea turtles, sea lions, seals, dolphins, stingrays, sea snakes, iguanas, crocodiles, frigate birds, cormorants, pelicans, penguins, albatross, whale meat, crayfish, crabs, octopuses, chickens, rats, pigs, sheep, dogs, hyenas, monkeys, a porcupine, songbirds, a bag of money, leather coats, boat cushions, driftwood, conch shells, a large tom-tom drum, horseshoe crabs, an unopened can of salmon, a wallet, a two-pound coil of copper wire, nuts and bolts, bundles of wool, cotton, silk, pens, plastic bags, rubber tires, cans, bottles, pieces of metal, bags of potatoes, coal, a driver’s license, a cow’s hoof, a horse’s skull, a deer’s antlers, lobsters, a chicken coop with feathers and bones inside, license plates, gasoline cans, cigarette tins, men, women, and children all have been found in the stomachs of tiger sharks at one time or another, making them the least specialized species when it comes to diet.

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