Word: carting
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Tooling along a street in Karachi last May on his Asian whistle-stop tour, Vice President Lyndon Johnson spied one of Pakistan's prime tourist attractions: a camel cart. Lyndon stopped the car, got out to shake hands with startled Camel Driver Ahmad Bashir, 40. While the photographers snapped away, Johnson made small talk. "President Ayub Khan is coming to the U.S.," he offered. "Why don't you come too?" Bashir agreeably smiled "Sure, sure," went home to his mud-and-gunny-sack shack and forgot...
Johnson, who shook hands from Bangkok to New Delhi, drawling "Now you all come see me." went home and forgot it, too-until he read in Washington a translated press clipping from Pakistan's biggest daily newspaper, Jang, that "the U.S. Vice President has invited Bashir, a camel-cart driver, to come to America. My, Bashir is certainly lucky. He will go by jet and stay in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York." Faced with a féte accompli, Lyndon did the sporting thing: at a televised People-to-People luncheon, he suggested that it would...
...battery-powered shopping cart for supermarkets, made by Technibilt Corp., equipped with two deadman's switches (so baby won't drive off on his own), which rolls along at 1½ m.p.h. so long as the shopper keeps the starter buttons depressed. Price: about $150 a cart...
...modestly educated (like Hussein, she never went to college)-in many ways a better match than Hussein's first wife, Queen Dina, who was taller, seven years older, and holder of an M.A. from Cambridge. Hussein got to know Toni at go-cart races in Amman, and both are fond of fast cars, planes and dancing. "Toni," said a friend, "is not very anything. She's a simple, gay girl who will cha-cha-cha with him when the day's state cares are over...
Jean always carves, but if she does little things like that beyond the customary wifely duties, he, as a husband, is St. Walter of Larchmont. Several afternoons a month, he gets behind a shopping cart in a Post Road supermarket. Moreover, he knows all about diaper pins, he doles out the petty cash ("We never hit Mom for money," say the boys), and, above all, he types her manuscripts, which, as any writer will understand, makes him a sort of household Nathan Hale. He also criticizes her work as it progresses, sending her back to the typewriter to fill...