Word: flick
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...Flick, Flick. Ferry Porsche doggedly refuses to tie himself more closely to Volkswagen, just as doggedly refuses to go after the mass market. Porsche owners are such as Elke Sommer, Herbert von Karajan, Prince Rainier, Ingemar Johansson, Juan Carlos of Spain and Krupp Heir Alfried Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach. Like Porsche owners everywhere, they flick their headlights in salute as they pass on the highway, even at 100 m.p.h. U.S. highways now boast 29,000 Porsches, and half of Porsche's production is sold in the U.S.; demand is so strong that U.S. buyers must now wait...
...right. A left. Another right. The Bad Guy was giving Tony Curtis his lumps in a TV rerun of a forgettable flick called Flesh and Fury. Anybody could see that it was not over yet: Tony's curls were still neatly combed. Bravely, he rose from the floor to smite his opponent a mighty clout on the mandible - and cheers rang through the Los Angeles Dodgers' clubhouse at Chavez Ravine...
Could be, and the substitute Thursday night was no farther away than a flick of the dial, where Sinatra was competing with himself as Major Marco in The Manchurian Candidate. Beside CBS's Thursday Night Movies, there is also NBC's Tuesday Night at the Movies and Saturday Night at the Movies and ABC's Sunday Night Movie. Since the three networks, now locked in a furious three-way ratings tie, can't begin yanking shows for 13 weeks, and significant ratings will not emerge before late November, these may provide the only safe haven...
...streets, breaks the speed limit and scares people, doesn't mean that he is a racing driver. Racing isn't all noise and speed and excitement. It is tedious little chores: counting revs, gauging distances, plotting trajectories. It is absolute concentration-the kind it takes to flick through a corner in driving rain at the limit of tire adhesion, the point at which one more mile-per-hour will send the car hurtling off the road. It is good driving at its best...
...sister's house to baby-sit, he worked up the courage to spring his big surprise. "I'm going to start motor racing," he said. "Oh no you're not," said Mrs. Clark. Thereupon, Jim angrily kicked the throttle, gave the steering wheel a flick, and sent the car hurtling through a curve at 70 m.p.h. in a perfectly controlled drift. His mother said nothing more...