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Word: fender (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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Usage:

...ride in his blue convertible, with the gold initials on the door, and she shudderingly recalls that the only time the speedometer dipped below 100 m.p.h. was when he rounded a curve. On the way home, Desi hit a bump and, as Lucille tells it, a fender flew off. He simply flicked the ash from his Cuban cigarillo and sped...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Radio: Sassafrassa, the Queen | 5/26/1952 | See Source »

Thomas Carlyle was often a boor, but never a bore. When he came courting Jane Welsh, he "made puddings in his teacup" and "scratched the fender dreadfully," causing her to say that he should be confined in "carpet-shoes and handcuffs" with only his "tongue . . . left at liberty...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Neurotic Victorians | 5/19/1952 | See Source »

...dramatic problem, but little else is possible without making Memorial Drive traffic more of a dilemma than it is already. Although a few signs and a few posts will clutter up the Houses' classic view of the Charles, they are far better decorations than pieces of glass, fender, and smashed tree that will otherwise continue to festoon the vista every week...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Street Scene | 5/1/1952 | See Source »

...looks as if he had just crawled out from under a car (as he usually has). Unlike most auto designers, who work with clay mockups, Farina works with sheet aluminum, which he hammers into shape on wooden frames. He is affectionately called by Nash "the world's greatest fender bender." Farina lives more like a mechanic than a high-priced designer, sleeps in a room in which a bed is the only piece of furniture, a naked bulb the only light. He allows himself one luxury: a window air-conditioning unit...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: AUTOS: Beau Nash | 3/17/1952 | See Source »

...slowly shook the snow off his trousers. "O.K., I guess," he murmured and again took a position behind a rear fender, this time attached to a battered pre-war Ford. Throwing his weight behind the car as the driver gunned the motor, Vag was immediately enveloped in a cloud of oily black exhaust. But he clung valiantly to his post and the car edged slowly into the middle of the street. Long after the others had zoomed off to Wellesley, Vag was still standing in the empty parking space, coughing carbon monoxide and shaking another load of snow...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: The Vagabond | 3/1/1952 | See Source »

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