Tow Trucks Quotes

Do you need me to come pick you up? (Janine) No. I appreciate the thought, but I have to wait on the tow truck, which seems to be the only thing moving slower than my DOA Firebird. (Taryn)

Hey, Captain Neckbeard! Less talky-talky, more worky-worky!” Wednesday shouted rudely down at the man who had been changing the tire. She wasn’t planning on taking shit from a tow truck driving hick today or any other day.

Oh, hey, he’d figured out how to work the stupid ramp mechanism. It’d have been nice to have done that before he was forced to steal some guy’s tow truck, but that was how every single possible thing had gone so far in this situation. Just a little bit behind the curve, a little slow to figure out the right thing. Story of his fucking life.

A sure sign of the apocalypse is tow truck drivers passing up easy money.

Once on the road again, she found her center and determination to see this through. Let Perdue come for her. The vicious monster who’d made a living buying and selling people was going to feel her wrath. As the light turned green, she steered right onto Flagler Street. A second after she pulled onto the main road, her heart jumped in her throat. A tow truck barreled down on her as it ran a red light.

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the base Only sentries were stirring--they guarded the place. At the foot of each bunk sat a helmet and boot For the Santa of Soldiers to fill up with loot. The soldiers were sleeping and snoring away As they dreamed of “back home” on good Christmas Day. One snoozed with his rifle--he seemed so content. I slept with the letters my family had sent. When outside the tent there arose such a clatter. I sprang from my rack to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash. Poked out my head, and yelled, “What was that crash?” When what to my thrill and relief should appear, But one of our Blackhawks to give the all clear. More rattles and rumbles! I heard a deep whine! Then up drove eight Humvees, a jeep close behind… Each vehicle painted a bright Christmas green. With more lights and gold tinsel than I’d ever seen. The convoy commander leaped down and he paused. I knew then and there it was Sergeant McClaus! More rapid than rockets, his drivers they came When he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: “Now, Cohen! Mendoza! Woslowski! McCord! Now, Li! Watts! Donetti! And Specialist Ford!” “Go fill up my sea bags with gifts large and small! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away, all!” In the blink of an eye, to their trucks the troops darted. As I drew in my head and was turning around, Through the tent flap the sergeant came in with a bound. He was dressed all in camo and looked quite a sight With a Santa had added for this special night. His eyes--sharp as lasers! He stood six feet six. His nose was quite crooked, his jaw hard as bricks! A stub of cigar he held clamped in his teeth. And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath. A young driver walked in with a seabag in tow. McClaus took the bag, told the driver to go. Then the sarge went to work. And his mission today? Bring Christmas from home to the troops far away! Tasty gifts from old friends in the helmets he laid. There were candies, and cookies, and cakes, all homemade. Many parents sent phone cards so soldiers could hear Treasured voices and laughter of those they held dear. Loving husbands and wives had mailed photos galore Of weddings and birthdays and first steps and more. And for each soldier’s boot, like a warm, happy hug, There was art from the children at home sweet and snug. As he finished the job--did I see a twinkle? Was that a small smile or instead just a wrinkle? To the top of his brow he raised up his hand And gave a salute that made me feel grand. I gasped in surprise when, his face all aglow, He gave a huge grin and a big HO! HO! HO! HO! HO! HO! from the barracks and then from the base. HO! HO! HO! as the convoy sped up into space. As the camp radar lost him, I heard this faint call: “HAPPY CHRISTMAS, BRAVE SOLDIERS! MAY PEACE COME TO ALL!

The candy-colored pavillions and exhibit halls, fitted out with Saturn rings, lightning bolts, shark's fins, golden grilles and honeycombs, the Italian pavillion with its entire facade dissolving in a perpetual cascade of water, the gigantic cash register, the austere and sinuous temples of the Detroit gods, the fountains, the pylons and sundials, the statues of George Washington and Freedom of Speech and Truth Showing the Way to Freedom had been peeled, stripped, prized apart, knocked down, bulldozed into piles, loaded onto truck beds, dumped into barges, towed out past the mouth of the harbor, and sent to the bottom of the sea. It made him sad, not because he saw some instructive allegory or harsh sermon on the vanity of all human hopes and Utopian imaginings in this translation of a bright summer dream into an immense mud puddle freezing over at the end of a September afternoon - he was too young to have such inklings - but because he had so loved the Fair, and seeing it this way, he felt in his heart what he had known all along, that, like childhood, the Fair was over, and he would never be able to visit again.

I built, of blocks, a town three hundred thousand strong, whose avenues were paved with a wine-colored rug and decorated by large leaves outlined inappropriately in orange, and on this leafage I'd often park my Tootsie Toy trucks, as if on pads of camouflage, waiting their deployment against catastrophes which included alien invasions, internal treachery, and world war. It was always my intention, and my conceit, to use up, in the town's construction, every toy I possessed: my electronic train, of course, the Lincoln Logs, old kindergarten blocks—their deeply incised letters always a problem—the Erector set, every lead soldier that would stand (broken ones were sent to the hospital), my impressive array of cars, motorcycles, tanks, and trucks—some with trailers, some transporting gas, some tows, some dumps—and my squadrons of planes, my fleet of ships, my big and little guns, an undersized group of parachute people (looking as if one should always imagine them high in the sky, hanging from threads), my silversided submarines, along with assorted RR signs, poles bearing flags, prefab houses with faces pasted in their windows, small boxes of a dozen variously useful kinds, strips of blue cloth for streams and rivers, and glass jars for town water towers, or, in a pinch, jails. In time, the armies, the citizens, even the streets would divide: loyalties, friendships, certainties, would be undermined, the city would be shaken by strife; and marbles would rain down from formerly friendly planes, steeples would topple onto cars, and shellfire would soon throw aggie holes through homes, soldiers would die accompanied by my groans, and ragged bands of refugees would flee toward mountain caves and other chairs and tables.

I turn my body from the sun. What ho, Tashtego! Let me hear thy hammer. Oh! ye three unsurrendered spires of mine; thou uncracked keel; and only god-bullied hull; thou firm deck, and haughty helm, and Pole-pointed prow, - death-glorious ship! must ye then perish, and without me? Am I cut off from the last fond pride of meanest shipwrecked captains? Oh, lonely death on lonely life! Oh, now I feel my topmost greatness lies in my topmost grief. Ho, ho! from all your furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold billows of my whole foregone life, and top this one piled comber of my death! Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! Thus, I give up the spear!" The harpoon was darted; the stricken whale flew forward; with igniting velocity the line ran through the groove; - ran foul. Ahab stooped to clear it; he did clear it; but the flying turn caught him round the neck, and voicelessly as Turkish mutes bowstring their victim, he was shot out of the boat, ere the crew knew he was gone. Next instant, the heavy eye-splice in the rope's final end flew out of the stark-empty tub, knocked down an oarsman, and smiting the sea, disappeared in its depths. For an instant, the tranced boat's crew stood still; then turned. "The ship? Great God, where is the ship?" Soon they through dim, bewildering mediums saw her sidelong fading phantom, as in the gaseous Fata Morgana; only the uppermost masts out of water; while fixed by infatuation, or fidelity, or fate, to their once lofty perches, the pagan harpooneers still maintained their sinking lookouts on the sea. And now, concentric circles seized the lone boat itself, and all its crew, and each floating oar, and every lance-pole, and spinning, animate and inanimate, all round and round in one vortex, carried the smallest chip of the Pequod out of sight. But as the last whelmings intermixingly poured themselves over the sunken head of the Indian at the mainmast, leaving a few inches of the erect spar yet visible, together with long streaming yards of the flag, which calmly undulated, with ironical coincidings, over the destroying billows they almost touched; - at that instant, a red arm and a hammer hovered backwardly uplifted in the open air, in the act of nailing the flag faster and yet faster to the subsiding spar. A sky-hawk that tauntingly had followed the main-truck downwards from its natural home among the stars, pecking at the flag, and incommoding Tashtego there; this bird now chanced to intercept its broad fluttering wing between the hammer and the wood; and simultaneously feeling that etherial thrill, the submerged savage beneath, in his death-gasp, kept his hammer frozen there; and so the bird of heaven, with archangelic shrieks, and his imperial beak thrust upwards, and his whole captive form folded in the flag of Ahab, went down with his ship, which, like Satan, would not sink to hell till she had dragged a living part of heaven along with her, and helmeted herself with it. Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.

Through the breach, they heard the waters pour, as mountain torrents down a flume. "The ship! The hearse!--the second hearse!" cried Ahab from the boat; "its wood could only be American!" Diving beneath the settling ship, the whale ran quivering along its keel; but turning under water, swiftly shot to the surface again, far off the other bow, but within a few yards of Ahab's boat, where, for a time, he lay quiescent. "I turn my body from the sun. What ho, Tashtego! let me hear thy hammer. Oh! ye three unsurrendered spires of mine; thou uncracked keel; and only god-bullied hull; thou firm deck, and haughty helm, and Pole-pointed prow,--death-glorious ship! must ye then perish, and without me? Am I cut off from the last fond pride of meanest shipwrecked captains? Oh, lonely death on lonely life! Oh, now I feel my topmost greatness lies in my topmost grief. Ho, ho! from all your furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold billows of my whole foregone life, and top this one piled comber of my death! Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! THUS, I give up the spear!" The harpoon was darted; the stricken whale flew forward; with igniting velocity the line ran through the grooves;--ran foul. Ahab stooped to clear it; he did clear it; but the flying turn caught him round the neck, and voicelessly as Turkish mutes bowstring their victim, he was shot out of the boat, ere the crew knew he was gone. Next instant, the heavy eye-splice in the rope's final end flew out of the stark-empty tub, knocked down an oarsman, and smiting the sea, disappeared in its depths. For an instant, the tranced boat's crew stood still; then turned. "The ship? Great God, where is the ship?" Soon they through dim, bewildering mediums saw her sidelong fading phantom, as in the gaseous Fata Morgana; only the uppermost masts out of water; while fixed by infatuation, or fidelity, or fate, to their once lofty perches, the pagan harpooneers still maintained their sinking lookouts on the sea. And now, concentric circles seized the lone boat itself, and all its crew, and each floating oar, and every lance-pole, and spinning, animate and inanimate, all round and round in one vortex, carried the smallest chip of the Pequod out of sight. But as the last whelmings intermixingly poured themselves over the sunken head of the Indian at the mainmast, leaving a few inches of the erect spar yet visible, together with long streaming yards of the flag, which calmly undulated, with ironical coincidings, over the destroying billows they almost touched;--at that instant, a red arm and a hammer hovered backwardly uplifted in the open air, in the act of nailing the flag faster and yet faster to the subsiding spar. A sky-hawk that tauntingly had followed the main-truck downwards from its natural home among the stars, pecking at the flag, and incommoding Tashtego there; this bird now chanced to intercept its broad fluttering wing between the hammer and the wood; and simultaneously feeling that etherial thrill, the submerged savage beneath, in his death-gasp, kept his hammer frozen there; and so the bird of heaven, with archangelic shrieks, and his imperial beak thrust upwards, and his whole captive form folded in the flag of Ahab, went down with his ship, which, like Satan, would not sink to hell till she had dragged a living part of heaven along with her, and helmeted herself with it. Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.

war in Bastogne. I saw Europe from a truck with our gun towed behind. We’d named ours Joe

A weathered black and silver Dodge pickup towing a small motorboat pulled up behind us, and Alex circled back to greet the driver. I couldn’t see who sat behind the crusted and dirty windshield, but Alex stood at the driver’s window and pointed down the block where the boulevard disappeared into floodwater. The truck pulled ahead, maneuvered a deft U-turn, and backed toward the water. Alex motioned for me to follow. By the time I lurched my way to the truck, he and the pickup driver were sliding the boat down the trailer ramp. Sweat trickled down my neck, and if I hadn’t been afraid of being poisoned by toxic sludge, I’d have made like a pig and wallowed in the mud to cool off. I kicked at a fire hydrant, trying to jolt some of the heaviest sludge off my boots, and heard a soft laugh behind me. With a final kick that sent a spray of brown gunk flying, I turned to see what was so funny. I needed a laugh. A man leaned against the side of the pickup with his arms crossed. He was a few inches shorter than Alex, maybe just shy of six feet, with sun-streaked blond hair that reached his collar and a sleeveless blue T-shirt and khaki shorts. His tanned legs between the bottom of the shorts and the top of sturdy black shrimp boots were scored with scars, bad ones, as if whatever made them meant to do serious damage. He’d been grinning when I turned around, flashing a heart-stopping set of dimples, but when he saw my eyes linger on his legs, the grin eased into something more wary.

two flatbed tow trucks lumbered down the driveway. Each with a covered vehicle on the back. They pulled up in front of the house and positioned themselves to unload the vehicles. The man in the first truck got out and said, “This Stargazer Ranch?” Jack replied, “Yeah.” “You the owner, Jack Turner?” “Yeah.” “Delivery’s for you, man.” Jack and Caleb came off the porch, staring at the trucks and the man. “Whose cars are these?” “Yours. Sign here, please.” Jack signed and the man got out two pink slips. “Who gets the Camaro?” Caleb and Jack looked at each other blankly. “She didn’t,” Caleb blurted. “If the she you’re referring to goes by Jenna Caldwell, then yes, she did,” the delivery man said. “Uh, the Camaro is mine, I guess.” Jack couldn’t believe it. She bought him a car. “Okay, sign here.” Jack did and took the pink slip. “Is the Mustang for you?” the delivery man asked Caleb. Caleb opened his mouth, closed it, then said still unsure, “Uh, yeah, I guess it is.” “Sign here and we’ll get them unloaded.” “Jack, she bought me a car. Why did she buy me a car?” Stunned, they could only stare. “This can’t be real. People don’t buy other people cars. Not like this.” “I don’t know. She bought me one, too,” Jack said, dumbfounded. -Deliveryman, Jack, & Caleb

She was happy that she kept her Honda because if Jeff’s trifling ass had his way, a tow truck would be at her house bright and early in the morning. Chanel

Twenty unsettling minutes later she dropped the pen on her stack of papers, and then leaned back in her chair. The time seemed to be dragging like a immobile car without tires hooked to a tow-truck with square wheels traveling cautiously down a road of fresh gravel. Tess struggled to maintain focus, similar to how an alternator belt would struggle if it had to try to keep traction on a turn spindle that had been lubricated after an antifreeze leak. And similar to the—would be—alternator on the sidelines of that metaphor, Tess’s enthusiasm for her after hours work was having difficulty in keeping charged up also.

Emergency Towing Service has the latest technology & equipment in their towing trucks, so they can transport your motor vehicle or motorcycle damage free. We also transport boats and remove Old cars. We are equipped with car ramps for your lowered vehicle & professional handle bar tie down straps for your Motorcycle or scooter. Emergency Towing Service offer their customers top notch 24 hours a day 7 days a week, door to door service. Our experienced towing staff in La Jolla CA will pick up and deliver to any location that is accessible to our fleet.

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Emergency Towing Service has the latest technology & equipment in their towing trucks, so they can transport your motor vehicle or motorcycle damage free. We also transport boats and remove Old cars. We are equipped with car ramps for your lowered vehicle & professional handle bar tie down straps for your Motorcycle or scooter. Emergency Towing Service offer their customers top notch 24 hours a day 7 days a week, door to door service. Our experienced towing staff in Poway CA will pick up and deliver to any location that is accessible to our fleet.

Emergency Towing Service has the latest technology & equipment in their towing trucks, so they can transport your motor vehicle or motorcycle damage free. We also transport boats and remove Old cars. We are equipped with car ramps for your lowered vehicle & professional handle bar tie down straps for your Motorcycle or scooter. Emergency Towing Service offer their customers top notch 24 hours a day 7 days a week, door to door service. Our experienced towing staff in Oceanside CA will pick up and deliver to any location that is accessible to our fleet.

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Hi, Dale, it’s Gabby...Clay’s girlfriend.”  It felt weird giving myself that title, but I pushed it aside.  Bigger issues to deal with.  “If he’s there, can I talk to him?” Dale chuckled.  “Sure, but I don’t imagine it’d be much of a conversation.” I heard him call out to Clay.  A moment later, a husky voice said, “Hello?” After not talking to me for so long, hearing his voice startled and annoyed me slightly.  He would talk to a perfect stranger, but not me?  I opened my mouth to say something about it, but the pain in my head insistently prodded me to get on with the important news. “Clay, I did it again.  I’m at the diner where we had breakfast.  I need you to come get me before it gets worse.” He didn’t say anything for so long that I looked at the phone to see if I still had a signal.  The screen said disconnected.  Would it have killed him to say “Okay” or maybe even “Bye” before hanging up?  His hello had been too shocking to recall the sound of his voice. I sighed and put my cell away.  With Sam’s frequent calls and Rachel’s occasional texts, my remaining minutes dipped into the double digits.  I needed to adjust my budget to buy more airtime.  Did life really need to throw me this many curveballs?  And all at once? I forced myself to eat more of my mostly untouched meal so the waitress wouldn’t bother me as I waited. The last of the waves hit me.  Only determination and a hand over my mouth kept me from whimpering.  After about ten minutes, I settled the bill and watched out the window for Clay, barely checking the need to curl into a ball and lie down on the padded bench.  The waitress kept a close eye on me, probably thinking she would need to clean up barf soon.  She might. Dale’s huge tow truck pulled into the parking lot.  Clay opened his door and leapt out while it still rolled to a stop.  Through the window, he spotted me.  His eyes never left me as he strode in and Dale pulled away. Clay still wore his greasy coveralls, and with his hair pulled back, he looked like an angel—a grimy one—coming to save me.  Again. “Hi,

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Disconnecting, she added stopping to pay the mechanic’s bill onto her to-do list for tomorrow, along with finding the time to double-check the clinic’s pharmaceuticals. Moving over to her small sofa, she sat down and Frodo jumped into her lap. She absentmindedly rubbed his head while flipping through channels, but nothing held her interest. At least, not on TV. Her mind was filled with the image of Joseph climbing down from the tow truck, all denim, heavy boots, and gorgeous body. And his smile. And the way her name sounded on his lips. She’d never known how wonderful it was to hear ‘Samantha’ rumbled from deep inside a man’s chest

Hallucination Country by Stewart Stafford A furious tribe of leaves, Chased a logging truck, As forked flames waved, From a burning backyard tree. A half-eaten unicorn in a ditch, A warning from hunters nearby, Slaughtering fairytale creatures, Cryptids were their mint targets. An abandoned Volkswagen car lay, Half-overturned, underbelly exposed, The injured driver, now hitchhiking, With a spree killer or tow-truck driver. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

They shared about the beautiful and unique plans that God has for each individual. Up until recently, I hadn’t had many hopes or plans. My life had been like a car stuck in a snowy ditch in the middle of the night. I knew I was stuck, but I didn’t know how to get out of it. When these guys came along, they had a tow truck, chains, and a spotlight that shed light on all the problem areas. They didn’t make me feel guilty about my problems; instead, they jumped out into the cold and helped me start digging. Not only that, but they were teaching me to see the hopes and plans that God had for others, they were teaching me to jump out in the snow and start digging as well.

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He broke up with me. It was over between us. No more net… I became an instant danger to my own heart. I tossed the phone onto the sofa, took off my heels, and bolted to the door. Josh was already coming up my steps at a jog. As soon as he saw me in the doorway, he started in on me. “You can’t go walking around alone in the middle of the night, Kristen. It’s not sa—” I collided with him, throwing my arms around his neck, and crushed my lips to his. He didn’t even pause. Not for a second. He kissed me back. His mouth was urgent and didn’t ask questions, like he knew this moment was a gift and he didn’t want to risk having to return it. But I needed him to know. I broke away, gasping for air, my forehead to his. “Tyler and I broke up. He left me a message. He reenlisted. I told him if he did that, we were through. And he reenlisted.” I didn’t care. In that intoxicated moment, I did not give one fuck that Tyler and I were over. He studied my face for a split second before he answered by kissing me again. He was like slipping into warm sheets. It was everything safe and perfect. All the tiny, stolen, fragmented pieces of him that I’d collected over the last few weeks, his smell, the feel of his breathing against my body in the tow truck, the contours of his shirtless chest in the garage, the roughness of his hand on my bare knee, the study of his mouth when he wasn’t looking—all came together into a familiar and exhilarating rush as he pressed against me and kissed me. Hands plunged down my back to cradle my ass and he ground into me. Only sex. That’s all it can be.

a shrewd and tawdry city, shining like toyland between the swamps and the sea. The night was weighted with derelicts and dancers, terminal breathing in wards, clenched fists of women as they pushed each time the pains came, chips in perfect alignment on green felt as men thumbed up the corners of the hole cards just enough to read the news, giggling young men in a chickenwire apartment painting the body of one of their chums a lovely gold, ambulances and tow trucks moving away in separate directions with a load of torn flesh or a load of ripped metal, thousands and thousands of picture tubes all telling the same jokes at the same instant to a hundred thousand living rooms, frantic rumps ram-packing the beach sand under the spread towelling, the simultaneous squirts of red tomato and yellow mustard in a hundred different places to disguise the flannelly taste of fried meat, a thousand simultaneous sobbings, thrashings, swallowings, vomitings, ejaculations, coughings, scratchings, cursings, shy touchings, whisperings, kickings. . . . He had never considered himself particularly imaginative. Never before had he felt this way about a city, and he knew that it could only be possible in a strange city, and at a time when grief and uncertainty and introspection had sharpened and heightened awareness. This great Gold Coast became a gigantic cruise ship moving through time rather than space, constantly assimilating the foods, the newborn, the gadgetry, spewing aft the unending tonnage of garbage and waste and dead bodies and broken toys, rolling imperceptibly in the slow tides of history, the passengers unaware that no city is forever, that it will end one day and the eternality of time will cover it in a silence of dust, sand and vines.

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Premier Towing in Fresno offers unbeatable and commendable towing service to customers and clients. We are one of the highly recognized towing service providers offering a wide range of towing operations. We have grown over the years, expanding our service spread for both residential and corporate purposes. We provide a 24-hour range towing and recovery service for different purposes regardless of the distance. Within our scope of operation, we continually strive to offer the foremost service that beats the imagination and expectations of customers. Our flare for innovation has helped us bring various new and improved methods of providing towing service at any time, any day and anywhere within Fresno.

Over the phone, my brother, like me, is often mistaken for a woman. As we continued shopping, he told us that his van had recently broken down and that when he called for a tow truck the dispatcher said, “We’ll be right out, sweetie.” He lowered a watermelon into the cart and turned to his daughter. “Maddy’s got a daddy who talks like a lady, but she don’t care, do she?” Giggling, she punched him in the stomach, and I was struck by how comfortable the two of them are with each other. Our father was a figure of authority, while Paul is more of a playmate.

But one day he met Muriel, a mud-faced little waif of a girl with stringy dishwater hair and small blue eyes. She latched onto him like a magnet to his tow truck bumper.

Everybody who climbs inside my tow truck has a story to tell. Most of the time, I’m as interested in listening to them as I am performing my own root canal.

Without a word, I grabbed Rachel’s hand and towed her back outside. She laughed and tugged against me, but I wasn’t letting her win this one. “Kash, what? Did you forget stuff in the truck?” “Nope.” I stopped suddenly, whirled around, and knocked her legs out from under her, catching her and cradling her in my arms before she could hit the ground. She gasped and glared at me, but I kissed her soundly to silence any snide remark she could have made. She wasn’t about to ruin this. “I forgot this.” I met her blue death stare and waited for it to soften before speaking again. “Mrs. Hendricks . . .” Wrong name. Wrong. Name. “Isn’t it tradition to carry your new bride across the threshold?” Her head tilted back and she laughed. “Isn’t it tradition for the bride to be aware that she got married?” I paused with one foot in the villa and one out. “You’re ruining it, woman,” I growled. “Well, husband”—her laugh died down and she ran her hand down the side of my face to my neck—“we should probably continue with tradition and consummate the marriage.” Kissing her lips once, I left my mouth hovering over hers as I took the last step into the villa. “Let’s get to it, wife.” I

Clark’s real estate agent turned out to be one of those loud, garrulous people who, as they drive, insist on making eye contact with the passengers in the back seat. ‘You want to see Scott Cook’s house?’ she hollered over her shoulder to a terrified Mr and Mrs Jim Barksdale. Scott Cook was the chairman of Intuit, the financial software company. ‘Is it for sale?’ asked Barksdale. ‘No,’ said the woman. ‘Then I don’t want to see it,’ said Barksdale. Clark’s realtor ignored him and squealed through this enormous bronze gate and into Scott Cook’s driveway. Out of the house shot Mrs Scott Cook to investigate this intrusion. Clark’s realtor had panicked, backed up and tried to make a quick getaway but ended up rolling back into Mrs Cook’s newly planted garden. There she became stuck in the mud. Wheels spun, plants flew. Mrs Cook was livid. She looked at Barksdale as if he were some kind of criminal. They had to call a fire truck and a tow truck to extract him, his wife, and Clark’s realtor from the garden. The episode lasted an hour.

Roadside situations can be quite stressful. Whether your car has been involved in a crash, suffered a flat tire, or stalled in the middle of nowhere, the situation can cause serious inconveniences. But no matter how careful you are as a driver or how well maintained your vehicle is, untoward roadside situations can occur at any time. If such problems arise when you are far from an auto shop, you may have to seek professional roadside assistance from a towing service in Carrollton, TX. Therefore, to avoid frustrations associated with roadside emergencies, you need to have a professional tow truck service on speed dial.

Daniel Towing is a Lewisville, TX owned and operated, provider of comprehensive towing and roadside assistance services. We have been dutifully serving the local motoring community for many years and have earned a well deserved reputation as providers of top class, competitively priced, comprehensive towing and roadside assistance services. At Daniel Towing we know that our services may be unexpectedly required at any time, day or night, rain or shine, on any day of the year. This is why we never close up shop, our dispatch is continuously manned and we always have enough techs, tow trucks and service vans on duty to ensure we can respond immediately to any call, never failing to meet the 30 min ETA we promise.

At 1Choice Towing Fort Worth, we pride ourselves on being a leading provider of towing and roadside assistance services. Our commitment to rapid response and expert handling in every situation sets us apart. With a fleet of advanced tow trucks and a team skilled in a wide range of vehicular emergencies, we offer comprehensive services that include emergency towing, vehicle recovery, and more. Serving the Fort Worth community, our priority is to deliver reliable, efficient, and safe solutions to all your towing needs.

The majority of the men who buy pickups – and they are overwhelmingly men – does not need them to cart hay to the back forty. In fact, the remarkable thing about pickup sales is that they rose steadily as the number of people who needed the vehicle for work declined. … Pickups symbolize a particular kind of masculinity rooted in the work rural people are supposed to do, and you can see it in ads like the ones Sam Elliott narrates, full of shots of trucks hauling and towing.

Let’s just call a tow truck.” Rita was already searching through her purse for her cell. “Anyone know where we are?” “Hopefully near a bridge, so I can throw myself off of it,