Towing Car Quotes

It's funny how, even long after you've accepted the grief of losing someone you love and truly have gotten on with your life, every once in a while something comes up that plays "gotcha," and for a moment or tow the car tissue seperates and the wound is raw again.

We, more than others, should carry jumper and tow cables not only in our cars, but also in our hearts, by which means we can send the needed boost or charge of encouragement or the added momentum to mortal neighbors.

This place is packed," Vee complained. "Where am I supposed to park?" She steered down an alley and slowed to a stop behind a bookstore. "This looks good. Lots of parking back here." "The sign says employee parking only." "How are they going to know that we aren't employees? The Neon blends right in. All these cars speak low class." "The sign says violators will be towed." "They just say that to scare people like you and me away. It's an empty threat. Nothing to worry about." ....... Vee came to a halt. "What is THAT?" We were standing in the parking lot behind the bookstore, a few feet from the Neon, and we were staring at a large piece of metal attached to the left rear tire. "I think it's a car boot," I said. "I can see that. What's it doing on my car?" "I guess when they say all violators will be towed, they mean it.

I’ve been where you are, Scottie. That kind of crazy, flesh-eating pain that consumes every part of you. I understand wanting to get back at them. Wanting their attention, even if it’s in a negative way. But the shitty thing is, that never helps you feel better. It just lands you in a worse situation, like towing the car of a perfectly nice girl who had nothing to do with the pain you’re in.

friendship in marriage is its own thing: friendship in a cup of tea, or a glass of wine, or a cappuccino every Sunday morning. Friendship in buying undershirts and underpants. Friendship in picking up a prescription or rescuing the towed car. Friendship in waiting for the phone call after the mammogram. Friendship in toast buttered just so. Friendship in shoveling the snow. I am the one you want to tell. You are the one I want to tell.

I'm sorry, we're what?" "Stuck. Like really stuck. I think we need a tow. See how we're kind of slanted. I kind of slipped the car off the road. Just a bit. But I swear, it was not candy-related

My problem is while I wasted five minutes of my life getting to know you, my car was towed.” “You sure?” “No. I never have any idea where I park my car. I just leave them everywhere and buy new ones when I can’t find them.

Then a beat-up car lurched into sight towing an even more beat-up car. As the cars came near, I saw that they were connected back to front by a loop made of two seat belts buckled to each other. That was the only time I ever saw a Russian use a seat belt for any purpose at all.

After a few Republicans on the Houston city council supported the Democratic majority's proposal that stalled cars be towed immediately off the city's notoriously clotted freeways, local Republican officials promised retribution. 'We're not looking for council members who are going to go along and get along,' said Jared Woodfill, chairman of the Harris County Republican Party. 'We're looking for council members who are going to stand up for conservative values.' Surely, political ideology has teetered over some high cliff when towing can be described as a 'value.' What's next, a doctrine of potholes, the water pressure credo?

Can we help you?” “Nope.” “Do you need a tow?” And what do you say? The truth? “Thanks, but we’re just so poor my mom makes her kid push the car”? That was some of the most embarrassing shit in my life, pushing the car to school like the fucking Flintstones. Because the other kids were coming in on that same road to go to school. I’d take my blazer off so that no one could tell what school I went to, and I would bury my head and push the car, hoping no one would recognize me.

Cops fall into two categories—grass eaters and meat eaters. The grass eaters are the small-timers—they take a cut from the car-towing companies, they get a free coffee, a sandwich. They take what comes, they’re not aggressive. The meat eaters are the predators, they go after what they want—the drug rips, the mob payoffs, the cash.

The silence became palpable and merciless in its depths. The only sound came from my car’s radio. The Temptations towed me to tears.

On the other hand, if you drive to Minnesota you could have car trouble right away and be towed to a gas station: —“I don’t like the sound of that thing. At first I thought maybe just moisture in the distributor cap, but now, I don’t know, I think we’re talking valves here, or a broken piston.” —“I appreciate your concern.” —“You bet. Goin’ far?” —“I guess not.

I've been where you are, Scottie. That kind of flesh-eating pain that consumes every part of you. I understand wanting to get back at them. Wanting their attention, even if it's in a negative way. But the shitty thing is, that never helps you feel better. It just lands you in a worse situation, like towing the car of a perfectly nice girl who had nothing to do with the pain you're in.

What the hell happened to you?" she demanded. "What took so long?" "My car got towed." "Okay, but why did you swim here?" "I walked. It just happens to be a hundred and fifty-seven degrees outside.

You didn’t cut her out, she cut you out. But sure, good for you for keeping your dignity instead of backsliding. That doesn’t mean you can stand there acting all high and mighty as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your life. You—towed—my fucking—car”—my voice is shaking now, and tears are falling from my eyes—“because you used to be just like Charlotte, picking on people simply because you could. That doesn’t make you better than me. That doesn’t even make you better than her—

All real estate agents should be put on a decommissioned naval frigate which is then towed out into the deepest part of the Atlantic and sunk. It's rather unfortunate that, in recent years, real estate agents have become comedy betes-noires. Rather like lawyers or used car salesmen. Every time they mention their job they probably get people amusingly making the sign of the cross at them or are subjected to some good-natured, humorous ribbing. This has the effect of distorting what I'm trying to say here, which isn't in the nature of a smiling roll of the eyes and a "Tsk, real estate agents, eh?" but rather "All real estate agents should be put on a decommissioned naval frigate which is then towed out into the deepest part of the Atlantic and sunk.

I found the number, called the compound and said to the man on the phone that the owner of the vehicle couldn’t collect it because he was dead. He was my father. That he didn’t mean to leave the car there but he died. That he really didn’t mean to leave it. Lunatic sentences, deadpan, cut from rock. I didn’t understand his embarrassed silence. He said, ‘Sorry, oh God. I’m so sorry’, but he could have said anything at all and it would have signified nothing. We had to take Dad’s death certificate to the compound to avoid the towing fee. This also signified nothing. After

The rear axle broke and the car spun around, hit an embankment, and flew in the air like a flying saucer. Parts of the body shredded. Thiel, a practicing libertarian, was not wearing a seatbelt, but he emerged unscathed. He was able to hitch a ride up to the Sequoia offices. Musk, also unhurt, stayed behind for a half-hour to have his car towed away, then joined the meeting without telling Harris what had happened. Later, Musk was able to laugh and say, “At least it showed Peter I was unafraid of risks.” Says Thiel, “Yeah, I realized he was a bit crazy.

The courtship continued through January 2000, causing Musk to postpone his honeymoon with Justine. Michael Moritz, X.com’s primary investor, arranged a meeting of the two camps in his Sand Hill Road office. Thiel got a ride with Musk in his McLaren. “So, what can this car do?” Thiel asked. “Watch this,” Musk replied, pulling into the fast lane and flooring the accelerator. The rear axle broke and the car spun around, hit an embankment, and flew in the air like a flying saucer. Parts of the body shredded. Thiel, a practicing libertarian, was not wearing a seatbelt, but he emerged unscathed. He was able to hitch a ride up to the Sequoia offices. Musk, also unhurt, stayed behind for a half-hour to have his car towed away, then joined the meeting without telling Harris what had happened. Later, Musk was able to laugh and say, “At least it showed Peter I was unafraid of risks.” Says Thiel, “Yeah, I realized he was a bit crazy.” Musk remained resistant to a merger. Even though both companies had about 200,000 customers signed up to make electronic payments on eBay, he believed that X.com was a more valuable company because it offered a broader array of banking services.

And don’t get me started on Canadians. It’s a whole thing. Remember when the feds busted in on that Mormon polygamist cult in Texas a few years back? And the dozens of wives were paraded in front of the camera? And they all had this long mouse-colored hair with strands of gray, no hairstyle to speak of, no makeup, ashy skin, Frida Kahlo facial hair, and unflattering clothes? And on cue, the Oprah audience was shocked and horrified? Well, they’ve never been to Seattle. There are two hairstyles here: short gray hair and long gray hair. You go into a salon asking for hair color, and they flap their elbows and cluck, “Oh, goody, we never get to do color!” But what really happened was I came up here and had four miscarriages. Try as I might, it’s hard to blame that one on Nigel Mills-Murray. Oh, Paul. That last year in L.A. was just so horrible. I am so ashamed of my behavior. I’ve carried it with me to this day, the revulsion at how vile I became, all for a stupid house. I’ve never stopped obsessing about it. But just before I completely self-immolate, I think about Nigel Mills-Murray. Was I really so bad that I deserved to have three years of my life destroyed for some rich prick’s practical joke? So I had some cars towed, yes. I made a gate out of trash doorknobs. I’m an artist. I won a MacArthur grant, for fuck’s sake. Don’t I get a break? I’ll be watching TV and see Nigel Mills-Murray’s name at the end. I’ll go nuts inside. He gets to keep creating, and I’m the one who’s still in pieces?

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.

Nope- it was not! Ava and her girls that day went, and they cut a class at some point in the day and broke into my baby. Then Ava- ‘Rubbed one out!’ that means that she masturbated, and squirted her lady- juices all over the inside of my car. Yes- and I mean it went all over. It was on my seat on the dash, on the floor, and Ava smeared what creaminess that was on her two fingers on the windows, and driver’s side vent. As her clan, sisters pissed all over the carpet on the floor, and took their dumps on the seat, and left their thongs behind. Alison, she wrote a note on her undies saying- ‘Now you have some pairs to wear!’ It was so nasty! Plus- the outside was covered and wrapped with toilet paper as well as littered with Ava and her sisters used feminine products. What is wrong with these girls? What did I do to deserve this one? Likewise, the other kids thought it was the most humorous thing, which they ever witnessed at the end of the school day. When I discovered it- You know, I was utterly sick to my stomach. I think I screamed so loudly it echoed throughout the land, and started to cry and ran while being pushed around bouncing around off their bodies, I cannot remember- I was so upset, and then the kids were all around me kicking, and pushing me from one place to another. I was just like a hacky sack for them, until I passed out, and dropped to the hard ground. That gave them time for them to spit on me, and dump things like glue in my hair or whatever that shit was. Then what gets me is that she signed her name- Ava on the dashboard with a black permanent sharpie marker, and It reads, ‘Suck on this- Nevaeh- lick, what I gave you all up!’ and she drew a heart, with a line through it also. She wanted me to know because there was not a thing I could do about it. Depressed- to say that her juicy sprays were more yellowish, and a thick sticky white, then clear on my blue and white cloth seats. Yet, Hope had the car towed and cleaned for me inside and out, she could not believe what kids do these days. Therefore, that was the first time that I drove my car to school and the last. That whole thing cost me a lot. I guess it is back to the bus. That is what everyone wants is it not. This completely sucked; I have a car that I cannot drive anywhere other than at home or have locked up in the barn- with the other rust bucket car.

Activities to Develop the Proprioceptive System Lifting and Carrying Heavy Loads—Have the child pick up and carry soft-drink bottles to the picnic; laundry baskets upstairs; or grocery bags, filled with nonbreakables, into the house. He can also lug a box of books, a bucket of blocks, or a pail of water from one spot to another. Pushing and Pulling—Have the child push or drag grocery bags from door to kitchen. Let him push the stroller, vacuum, rake, shove heavy boxes, tow a friend on a sled, or pull a loaded wagon. Hard muscular work jazzes up the muscles. Hanging by the Arms—Mount a chinning bar in a doorway, or take your child to the park to hang from the monkey bars. When she suspends her weight from her hands, her stretching muscles send sensory messages to her brain. When she shifts from hand to hand as she travels underneath the monkey bars, she is developing upper-body strength. Hermit Crab—Place a large bag of rice or beans on the child’s back and let her move around with a heavy “shell” on her back. Joint Squeeze—Put one hand on the child’s forearm and the other on his upper arm; slowly press toward and away from his elbow. Repeat at his knee and shoulder. Press down on his head. Straighten and bend his fingers, wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, and toes. These extension and flexion techniques provide traction and compression to his joints and are effective when he’s stuck in tight spaces, such as church pews, movie theaters, cars, trains, and especially airplanes where the air pressure changes. Body Squeeze—Sit on the floor behind your child, straddling him with your legs. Put your arms around his knees, draw them toward his chest, and squeeze hard. Holding tight, rock him forward and back.

Grimes’s phone rang, and he picked it up, listening intently to the person on the other line. He hung up and shook his head as if trying to clear the cobwebs, then dragged his eyes back to Baldwin. “Okay then, let me fill you in on what they’ve got. A whole bunch of nothing, to be succinct. Sheriff wants us to meet him over at the hospital now. They want to tow Marni’s car to the impound lot, but they kindly agreed to wait for us. I know you like to look at your scenes in situ.” Baldwin nodded at him. “Great, that will be a big help.

Do not let the focus on bakers and florists obscure this point: It is currently legal in most states to fire people for being lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender; to refuse to rent them apartments or hotel rooms; even to refuse to tow their cars or repair their furnaces. Should this change? Anderson and Girgis argue that it should not. 4.3.5

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.

The People of Ice Planet Barbarians As of the end of Barbarian’s Mate (suggested pronunciations in parenthesis) AT THE MAIN TRIBAL CAVE CAVE 1 VEKTAL (Vehk-tall) - The chief of the sa-khui. Mated to Georgie. GEORGIE – Human woman (and unofficial leader of the human females). Has taken on a dual-leadership role with her mate. TALIE (Tah-lee) – Their baby daughter. CAVE 2 Maylak (May-lack) – Tribe Healer. Mated to Kashrem and currently pregnant with child. Kashrem (Cash-rehm) - Her mate, also a leather-worker. Esha (Esh-uh) – Their young daughter. CAVE 3 Sevvah (Sev-uh) – Tribe elder, mother to Aehako, Rokan, and Sessah Oshen (Aw-shen) – Tribe elder, her mate Sessah – (Ses-uh) - Their youngest son Rokan – (Row-can) – Their oldest son. Adult male hunter. CAVE 4 Warrek (War-ehk) – Tribal hunter. Eklan (Ehk-lan) – His father. Elder. CAVE 5 Ereven (Air-uh-ven) Hunter, mated to Claire Claire – mated to Ereven, currently pregnant CAVE 6 Liz – Raahosh’s mate and huntress. Raahosh (Rah-hosh) – Her mate. A hunter and brother to Rukh. Raashel (Rah-shel) – Their daughter. CAVE 7 Stacy – Mated to Pashov. Has an unnamed child. Pashov (Pah-showv) – son of Kemli and Borran, brother to Farli and Salukh. Mate of Stacy, and has an unnamed child. CAVE 8 Nora – Mate to Dagesh, mother to twins Anna and Elsa. Dagesh (Dah-zzhesh) (the g sound is swallowed) – Her mate. A hunter. Anna & Elsa – Their infant twin daughters. CAVE 9 Harlow – Mate to Rukh. ‘Mechanic’ to the Elders’ Cave. Spends 75% of her time there with her family. Rukh (Rookh) – Former exile and loner. Original name Maarukh. (Mah-rookh). Brother to Raahosh. Mate to Harlow. Rukhar (Roo-car) – Their infant son. CAVE 10 Megan – Mate to Cashol. Extremely pregnant. Cashol – (Cash-awl) – Mate to Megan. Hunter. CAVE 11 Marlene (Mar-lenn) – Human mate to Zennek. Has unnamed child. French. Zennek – (Zehn-eck) – Mate to Marlene. Has unnamed child. CAVE 12 Ariana – Human female. Mate to Zolaya. Unnamed child. Zolaya (Zoh-lay-uh) – Hunter and mate to Ariana. Unnamed child. CAVE 13 Tiffany – Human female. Mated to Salukh and newly pregnant. Salukh - Salukh (Sah-luke) – Hunter. Son of Kemli and Borran, brother to Farli, Pashov and Dagesh. CAVE 14 Aehako – (Eye-ha-koh) – Acting leader of the South cave. Mate to Kira, father to Kae. Son of Sevvah and Oshen, brother to Rokan and Sessah. Kira – Human woman, mate to Aehako, mother of Kae. Was the first to be abducted by aliens and wore an ear-translator for a long time. Kae (Ki –rhymes with ‘fly’) – Their newborn daughter. CAVE 15 Kemli – (Kemm-lee) Female elder, mother to Salukh, Pashov and Farli Borran – (Bore-awn) Her mate, elder Farli – (Far-lee) Their teenage daughter. Her brothers are Salukh and Pashov. She has a pet dvisti named Chahm-pee (Chompy). CAVE 16 Drayan (Dry-ann) – Elder. Drenol (Dree-nowl) – Elder. CAVE 17 Vadren (Vaw-dren) – Elder. Vaza (Vaw-zhuh) – Widower and elder. Loves to creep on the ladies. CAVE 18 Asha (Ah-shuh) – Mated to Hemalo. No living child. Hemalo (Hee-mah-lo) – Mated to Asha. CAVE 19 Bek – (BEHK) – Hunter. Hassen (Hass-en) – Hunter. Harrec (Hair-ek) – Hunter. Taushen (Tow –rhymes with cow- shen) – Hunter. CAVE 20 Josie – Human woman and last one to resonate. Haeden (Hi-den) – Hunter. Previously resonated to Zalah but she died (along with his khui) in the khui-sickness before resonance could be completed. Now mated to Josie

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Seriously?” Eli pipes up. “You made all that fuss about Cole towing your car, but you just give him your wallet?” She shrugs. “I’m already here, now. If you guys are murderers, I won’t need the money when you’ve hacked me to pieces.

7 Angry Men A few gentlemen, occupy a room They laugh and talk and gossip and croon Whatever they do, they do in unison Until it was time to leave, for the night is done The first agonized, with rain but no cover The second agathed over the fallen quarter The third in a hurry, stubbed his toe The shriek he incurred, woke those below The fourth, drunk enough, walked but failed The fifth, nonchalant about his car being towed The sixth, why, he can't leave Until everyone is gone, and hands over the keys! Seven angry men, They reside in a room Last one, you ask? Ah, beware - it might just be you

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.

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

Smith worked so tirelessly over one span of eight months that he forgot about his light blue Peugeot station wagon that he’d parked near his apartment in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood. The fate of the car would later be revealed in the piles of mail that stacked up inside his front door. When he finally opened the mail in that pile, Smith found, in succession, several parking tickets, a notice that the car had been towed, a few warnings from the towing company, and finally a letter informing him that the vehicle had been sold at auction for seven hundred dollars.

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that the human brain expects permanence. The cup is where you put it. The car is where you parked it (if it hasn’t been towed away). The wine is still in the refrigerator where you left it. It’s only people, the most complex, important, influential, life-changing elements of our lives, who are there and then are shockingly not-there. And it’s surprisingly hard to get one’s brain around that. So

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was gone when I arrived at Sanchez & Sons, but the man in the Subaru was parked a car-length away from a tiny white taqueria stand with an easy view of the tow yard on the opposite side of the street. He was slumped behind the wheel exactly as Pike described, wearing shades as if they made him invisible, and a stylish gray porkpie hat. Three scruffy, dusty men who looked like they worked hard were lined up for tacos. They ignored the hat man, and he ignored them. He watched the tow yard. Sanchez

Shara met me at the airport in London, dressed in her old familiar blue woolen overcoat that I loved so much. She was bouncing like a little girl with excitement. Everest was nothing compared to seeing her. I was skinny, long-haired, and wearing some very suspect flowery Nepalese trousers. I short, I looked a mess, but I was so happy. I had been warned by Henry at base camp not to rush into anything “silly” when I saw Shara again. He had told me it was a classic mountaineers’ error to propose as soon as you get home. High altitude apparently clouds people’s good judgment, he had said. In the end, I waited twelve months. But during this time I knew that this was the girl I wanted to marry. We had so much fun together that year. I persuaded Shara, almost daily, to skip off work early from her publishing job (she needed little persuading, mind), and we would go on endless, fun adventures. I remember taking her roller-skating through a park in central London and going too fast down a hill. I ended up headfirst in the lake, fully clothed. She thought it funny. Another time, I lost a wheel while roller-skating down a steep busy London street. (Cursed skates!) I found myself screeching along at breakneck speed on only one skate. She thought that one scary. We drank tea, had afternoon snoozes, and drove around in “Dolly,” my old London black cab that I had bought for a song. Shara was the only girl I knew who would be willing to sit with me for hours on the motorway--broken down--waiting for roadside recovery to tow me to yet another garage to fix Dolly. Again. We were (are!) in love. I put a wooden board and mattress in the backseat so I could sleep in the taxi, and Charlie Mackesy painted funny cartoons inside. (Ironically, these are now the most valuable part of Dolly, which sits majestically outside our home.) Our boys love playing in Dolly nowadays. Shara says I should get rid of her, as the taxi is rusting away, but Dolly was the car that I will forever associate with our early days together. How could I send her to the scrapyard? In fact, this spring, we are going to paint Dolly in the colors of the rainbow, put decent seat belts in the backseat, and go on a road trip as a family. Heaven. We must never stop doing these sorts of things. They are what brought us together, and what will keep us having fun. Spontaneity has to be exercised every day, or we lose it. Shara, lovingly, rolls her eyes.

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BLAKE: You look beautiful tonight. Instead of bolting for my car like any sane person would have, I looked around until I found him. Well, running to my car wouldn’t have helped much; he was parked right next to it and leaning against the driver’s door of his shiny little Lexus. How did he know I was here? If he didn’t know I was here, what is he doing here at two in the morning? Oh my word, he’s been following me! No, that’s ridiculous; come on, Rachel, get a grip. He is not following you. Frick, I really need to stop thinking the world and everyone in it revolves around me. He just happened to be here and saw your car. That’s all. Right? Right. I took a few steps closer to the cars and took a deep breath as I dropped my phone back into my purse, trying to calm myself down. “Hi, Blake.” “I was starting to think you would never leave. I’ve been out here for hours.” Oh God, he has been waiting for me! Those words were creepy enough, but paired with the sexy, innocent smile they seemed even worse. I meant for my voice to sound strong and annoyed but it was barely a whisper. “Why are you following me?” “Following you? I’m not following you. Candice told me you were waiting for me to pick you up from the study group. Jesus, Rachel, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost; are you all right?” “Candice said what? No, I was definitely not waiting for you; I drove myself here. That should be obvious, since you’re parked next to my Jeep.” I didn’t know what was going on, but I wanted to get out of there and away from him. Now. “Yeah, but your car isn’t starting. Which is why I’m here.” He said every word slowly, like I was a child or something. “Don’t you remember, Rachel? You called her almost three hours ago, but she was busy, so you told her to call me. Are you feeling okay? Come on, get in the car. I’ll get you back to your room.” “I am not getting in your car, I’ll drive myself back!” With that I took the last few steps to my car, got in, locked the door, and put the key in the ignition. I turned it but nothing happened. There wasn’t even a click. What had happened to my car? I knew I hadn’t called Candice. And even then, if I’d wanted Blake to pick me up I would have called him myself. Someone tapped on the window and even though I knew who it was, I still jumped. “Come on, Rach, this is dumb. Just get in the car and I’ll take you back. I’ll get your car towed in a couple hours.” There was no point in trying to call someone else. It was two in the morning, everyone was asleep, and I definitely couldn’t walk back at this hour. I grimaced and opened the door. “That’s my girl. Come on, let’s go.” He helped me into his car, then got in beside me. This time he didn’t put his hand on my thigh. The

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It’s a little known fact, but Hoboken, the Mile Square City, was originally an island in the Hudson River. Of course, its eastern boundary was the Hudson River, but on its western side, the river ran into tidal lands, described before, that extended along the base of the cliffs of the Palisades. Named after his ship, Half Moon Bay, north of Hoboken was where Henry Hudson anchored his ship. The photograph showing “Heavy Frigates at Anchor,” identified to be in Half Moon Bay, shows a sailing vessel that appears to be the USS Constitution, with her decks protected from the elements by a canvas awning. It is recorded that at the outbreak of the Civil War the USS Constitution was relocated farther north because of threats made against her by Confederate sympathizers. Several companies of Massachusetts Volunteer soldiers were stationed aboard her for her protection when she was towed to New York Harbor, where she arrived on April 29, 1861. It cannot be verified, however from my research the other ship in the photograph could well have been the USS Constellation. A third frigate only shows her rigging and cannot be identified. Originally, on March 27, 1794, the United States Congress authorized six similar frigates to be constructed at a cost of $688,888.82. The tidal lands with cattails and river water were filled in at the turn of the 20th Century. Without any concern regarding the ecology, this bay which was used by nesting birds and had served as a protected anchorage, became low lying flatlands. Most of the fill used was from dredging, ballast, dunnage and even garbage. Once filled in, it became the site of the Maxwell House Coffee Company, the Tootsie Roll factory, Todd’s Shipyard, and the Erie railroad yards in Weehawken. The flats were used as a holding area for railroad cars waiting to cross on barges to the eastern side of the river. It also became the location of the western entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel.

I gave him a weak smile. "Zed taught me how to drive when I was sixteen," I told him. "But he didn't trust me not to crash his car, so we would take Chase's instead and just... not tell him. Until one night I thought a cat was on the road, and I swerved to miss it. Crashed right into a tree." I swallowed heavily as the old, venomous emotions clinging to my memories of Chase tried to surface. "I knew he was going to be so mad, so I wrote him a note and left it taped to the windshield after the car got towed back to his place." Cass nodded his understanding. "Gotcha. Word for word, I assume?

He's got a car bomb. He puts the key in the ignition and turns it—the car blows up. He gets out. He opens the hood and makes a cursory inspection. He closes the hood and gets back in. He turns the key in the ignition. The car blows up. He gets out and slams the door shut disgustedly. He kicks the tire. He takes off his jacket and shimmies under the chassis. He pokes around. He slides back out and wipes the grease off his shirt. He puts his jacket back on. He gets in. He turns the key in the ignition. The car blows up, sending debris into the air and shattering windows for blocks. He gets out and says, Damn it! He calls a tow truck. He gives them his AAA membership number. They tow the car to an Exxon station. The mechanic gets in and turns the key in the ignition. The car explodes, demolishing the gas pumps, the red-and-blue Exxon logo high atop its pole bursting like a balloon on a string. The mechanic steps out. You got a car bomb, he says. The man rolls his eyes. I know that, he says.

They came to a bumpy stretch in the country road. The jeep jounced up and down, and the tools and equipment bounced and clattered until it was impossible to talk over the noise. To Cloud the din was a symphony. That was the way a jeep was supposed sound. It wasn't a limousine for softies but a car for tough outdoorsmen who carried tow chains, crowbars, and camp stoves." The Year of the Jeep by Keith Robertson (also called The Jeep

I am going to kill you.” These six words may have triggered more high-stakes predictions than any other sentence ever spoken. They have certainly caused a great deal of fear and anxiety. But why? Perhaps we believe only a deranged and dangerous person would even think of harming us, but that just isn’t so. Plenty of people have thought of harming you: the driver of the car behind you who felt you were going too slowly, the person waiting to use the pay-phone you were chatting on, the person you fired, the person you walked out on—they have all hosted a fleeting violent idea. Though thoughts of harming you may be terrible, they are also inevitable. The thought is not the problem; the expression of the thought is what causes us anxiety, and most of the time that’s the whole idea. Understanding this will help reduce unwarranted fear. That someone would intrude on our peace of mind, that they would speak words so difficult to take back, that they would exploit our fear, that they would care so little about us, that they would raise the stakes so high, that they would stoop so low—all of this alarms us, and by design. Threatening words are dispatched like soldiers under strict orders: Cause anxiety that cannot be ignored. Surprisingly, their deployment isn’t entirely bad news. It’s bad, of course, that someone threatens violence, but the threat means that at least for now, he has considered violence and decided against doing it. The threat means that at least for now (and usually forever), he favors words that alarm over actions that harm. For an instrument of communication used so frequently, the threat is little understood, until you think about it. The parent who threatens punishment, the lawyer who threatens unspecified “further action,” the head of state who threatens war, the ex-husband who threatens murder, the child who threatens to make a scene—all are using words with the exact same intent: to cause uncertainty. Our social world relies on our investing some threats with credibility while discounting others. Our belief that they really will tow the car if we leave it here encourages us to look for a parking space unencumbered by that particular threat. The disbelief that our joking spouse will really kill us if we are late to dinner allows us to stay in the marriage. Threats, you see, are not the issue—context is the issue.

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THE PEOPLE of ICE PLANET BARBARIANS As of the start of BARBARIAN’S PRIZE (suggested pronunciations in parenthesis) AT THE MAIN TRIBAL CAVE CAVE 1 VEKTAL (Vehk-tall) - The chief of the sa-khui GEORGIE – His mate TALIE (Tah-lee) – Their baby daughter CAVE 2 Maylak (May-lack) – Tribe Healer Kashrem (Cash-rehm) - Her mate Esha (Esh-uh) – Their daughter CAVE 3 Sevvah (Sev-uh) – Tribe elder, mother to Aehako, Rokan, and Sessah Oshen (Aw-shen) – Tribe elder, her mate Sessah – (Ses-uh) - Their youngest son Rokan – (Row-can) – Their oldest son. Adult male hunter. CAVE 4 Warrek – Tribal hunter. Eklan – His father. Elder. CAVE 5 Ereven (Air-uh-ven) Hunter, mated to Claire Claire – mated to Ereven, currently pregnant CAVE 6 Liz – Raahosh’s mate and huntress. Raahosh (Rah-hosh) – Her mate. A hunter and brother to Rukh. Raashel (Rah-shel) – Their daughter. CAVE 7 Stacy – Mated to Pashov. Has an unnamed child as of book 5. Pashov (Pah-showv) – son of Kemli and Borran, brother to Farli and Salukh. Mate of Stacy, and has an unnamed child. CAVE 8 Nora – Mate to Dagesh, mother to twins Anna and Elsa. Dagesh (Dah-zzhesh) (the g sound is swallowed) – Her mate. A hunter. Anna & Elsa – Their infant twin daughters. CAVE 9 Harlow – Mate to Rukh. ‘Mechanic’ to the Elders’ Cave. Rukh (Rookh) – Former exile and loner. Original name Maarukh. (Mah-rookh). Brother to Raahosh. Mate to Harlow. Rukhar (Roo-car) – Their infant son. CAVE 10 Megan – Mate to Cashol. Extremely pregnant. Cashol – (Cash-awl) – Mate to Megan. Hunter. CAVE 11 Marlene (Mar-lenn) – Mate to Zennek. Has unnamed child. Zennek – (Zehn-eck) – Mate to Marlene. Has unnamed child. CAVE 12 Ariana – Mate to Zolaya. Unnamed child. Zolaya (Zoh-lay-uh) – Hunter and mate to Ariana. Unnamed child. AT THE SOUTH CAVES SOUTH CAVE 1 Aehako – (Eye-ha-koh) – Acting leader of the South cave. Mate to Kira, father to Kae. Son of Sevvah and Oshen, brother to Rokan and Sessah. Kira – Mate to Aehako, mother of Kae. Kae (Ki –rhymes with ‘fly’) – Their newborn daughter. SOUTH CAVE 2 Kemli – (Kemm-lee) Female elder, mother to Salukh, Pashov and Farli Borran – (Bore-awn) Her mate, elder Farli – (Far-lee) Their teenage daughter. Her brothers are Salukh and Pashov. SOUTH CAVE 3 Drayan – Elder. Drenol – Elder. SOUTH CAVE 4 Vadren (Vaw-dren) – Elder. Vaza (Vaw-zhuh) – Widower and elder. SOUTH CAVE 5 Asha (Ah-shuh) – Mated to Hemalo. No living child. Hemalo (Hee-mah-lo) – Mated to Asha. SOUTH CAVE 6 Tiffany – Currently unmated. Human female. Josie -- Currently unmated. Human female. SOUTH CAVE 7 Bek – (BEHK) – Hunter. Hassen (Hass-en) – Hunter. Harrec (Hair-ek) – Hunter. SOUTH CAVE 8 Haeden (Hi-den) – Hunter. Taushen (Tow –rhymes with cow- shen) – Hunter. Salukh (Sah-luke) – Hunter. Son of Kemli and Borran, brother to Farli, Pashov and Dagesh.

THE PEOPLE OF ICE PLANET BARBARIANS As of the end of BARBARIAN’S TOUCH (suggested pronunciations in parenthesis) AT THE MAIN TRIBAL CAVE CAVE 1 Vektal (Vehk-tall) - The chief of the sa-khui. Mated to Georgie. Georgie – Human woman (and unofficial leader of the human females). Has taken on a dual-leadership role with her mate. Talie (Tah-lee) – Their baby daughter. CAVE 2 Maylak (May-lack) – Tribe Healer. Mated to Kashrem and currently pregnant with child. Kashrem (Cash-rehm) - Her mate, also a leather-worker. Esha (Esh-uh) – Their young daughter. CAVE 3 Sevvah (Sev-uh) – Tribe elder, mother to Aehako, Rokan, and Sessah Oshen (Aw-shen) – Tribe elder, her mate Sessah (Ses-uh) - Their youngest son CAVE 4 Warrek (War-ehk) – Tribal hunter. Eklan (Ehk-lan) – His father. Elder. CAVE 5 Ereven (Air-uh-ven) Hunter, mated to Claire Claire – mated to Ereven, currently pregnant CAVE 6 Liz – Raahosh’s mate and huntress. Currently pregnant for a second time. Raahosh (Rah-hosh) – Her mate. A hunter and brother to Rukh. Raashel (Rah-shel) – Their daughter. CAVE 7 Stacy – Mated to Pashov. Mother to Pacy, a baby boy. Pashov (Pah-showv) – son of Kemli and Borran, brother to Farli and Salukh. Mate of Stacy, father to Pacy. Pacy – Their infant son. CAVE 8 Nora – Mate to Dagesh, mother to twins Anna and Elsa. Dagesh (Dah-zzhesh) (the g sound is swallowed) – Her mate. A hunter. Anna & Elsa – Their infant twin daughters. CAVE 9 Harlow – Mate to Rukh. ‘Mechanic’ to the Elders’ Cave. Spends 75% of her time there with her family. Rukh (Rookh) – Former exile and loner. Original name Maarukh. (Mah-rookh). Brother to Raahosh. Mate to Harlow. Rukhar (Roo-car) – Their infant son. CAVE 10 Megan – Mate to Cashol. Mother to newborn Holvek. Cashol – (Cash-awl) – Mate to Megan. Hunter. Father to newborn Holvek. Holvek – (Haul-vehk) – Wee blue baby boy! CAVE 11 Marlene (Mar-lenn) – Human mate to Zennek. Has unnamed child. French. Zennek – (Zehn-eck) – Mate to Marlene. Has unnamed child. CAVE 12 Ariana – Human female. Mate to Zolaya. Mother to Analay. Zolaya (Zoh-lay-uh) – Hunter and mate to Ariana. Father to Analay. Analay – (Ah-nuh-lay) – Their infant son. CAVE 13 Tiffany – Human female. Mated to Salukh and newly pregnant. Salukh - Salukh (Sah-luke) – Hunter. Son of Kemli and Borran, brother to Farli and Pashov. CAVE 14 Aehako – (Eye-ha-koh) – Acting leader of the South cave. Mate to Kira, father to Kae. Son of Sevvah and Oshen, brother to Rokan and Sessah. Kira – Human woman, mate to Aehako, mother of Kae. Was the first to be abducted by aliens and wore an ear-translator for a long time. Kae (Ki –rhymes with ‘fly’) – Their newborn daughter. CAVE 15 Kemli – (Kemm-lee) Female elder, mother to Salukh, Pashov and Farli Borran – (Bore-awn) Her mate, elder Farli – (Far-lee) Their teenage daughter. Her brothers are Salukh and Pashov. She has a pet dvisti named Chahm-pee (Chompy). CAVE 16 Drayan (Dry-ann) – Elder. Drenol (Dree-nowl) – Elder. CAVE 17 Vadren (Vaw-dren) – Elder. Vaza (Vaw-zhuh) – Widower and elder. Loves to creep on the ladies. CAVE 18 Asha (Ah-shuh) – Separated from Hemalo. No living child. Maddie – Lila’s sister. Found in second crash. CAVE 19 Bek – (BEHK) – Hunter. Hassen (Hass-en) – Hunter. Harrec (Hair-ek) – Hunter. Taushen (Tow –rhymes with cow- shen) – Hunter. Hemalo (Hee-mah-lo) – Separated from Asha. CAVE 20 Josie – Human woman. Mated to Haeden and newly pregnant. Haeden (Hi-den) – Hunter. Previously resonated to Zalah but she died (along with his khui) in the khui-sickness before resonance could be completed. Now mated to Josie. CAVE 21 (formerly a storage cave) Rokan (Row-can) – Oldest son to Sevvah and Oshen. Brother to Aehako and Sessah. Adult male hunter. Now mated to Lila. Has ‘sixth’ sense. Lila – Maddie’s sister. Hearing impaired. Resonated to Rokan.

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Soon after the American left, things changed. The government, desperate for tax dollars, levied a series of boating, gaming, and license fees: To continue fishing, the Mexican must pay $400 for a fishing license, a $200 environmental fee, a $350 game endorsement, and $1,800 in mooring fees. If he doesn’t pay ASAP, the Mexican will be barred from fishing. Unfortunately, after paying all the fees, the Mexican has little money left to insure and license his boat. Unable to legally operate at his favorite coastal town, the Mexican fisherman drives three hours south to another town, where the quality of the fish is poor. The long drive takes its toll on the Mexican’s car, where it ultimately breaks down. In order to fix his car, he needs $200 for a water pump and $400 for a radiator. This is after he pays $600 to get his car towed back to his village. But this story is about to get worse. When the Mexican fails to pay the mooring fees to the harbor master, he loses his boat. The Mexican fisherman who spent most of his days in a state of unpreparedness and merriment—strumming around with his friends, sipping wine—is now unable to support his family. His wife divorces him. The Mexican now sings a different tune with his amigos … something along the lines of “Money can buy happiness.