Word: loco
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...roars out of the desert like some mustang of the legendary West - but it is no horse, only modern horse power gone loco. Driverless, with a diabolical will of its own, it invades a Utah town and mows down a bicycling couple, the sheriff and a passel of deputies and a pert young teacher. Among the other victims: plot, dialogue and characterization. Deputy Sheriff James Brolin leads the counterattack, but it is an unequal contest: the car steals all the scenes. The ancient nightmare of machines turning against their masters has in recent years become something of a staple...
...While everyone else is speaking in Irish brogue or the King's English, O'Neal sounds like a smooth-voiced Jack Nicholson out of Doonesbury. "How could you do this to me, Nora?" he asks in a deadpan American voice that could have come straight out of Gidget Goes Loco. O'Neal's Barry has no charm and is the film's decisive failure; you can forgive a rogue anything so long as he is graceful and entertaining. O'Neal's Barry is a lout at bottom, and he seems to be so incompetent an actor that it's hard...
...told him every club to hit every day, and kept talkin to him all the time--you gotta talk to him or he goes loco," Killer was saying. "The 17th was the crucial one. We went off the tee with a four-wood--it's really a two-iron shot, but Victor can't hit a two-iron--then we went with a little seven iron from 160 yards out on the slope. I knew when we made that six-footer for par we were all right. But we had to go with a driver...
...flowering wild hops. Weird subterranean winds whistle through caves honeycombing the limestone, and whoosh with an eerie trumpeting from gaping blowholes. Over one stretch known as "the long straight," the track runs dead ahead for 297 miles, the longest straightway railroad in the world. There was a "loco" driver at Cook named Kevin Smith who, they say, did not go round a bend for five years...
...loco driver boarding at Cook is Gary Carn He and his fireman, Peter Read, carry four days' provisions in a metal tucker box, which they keep in the locomotive cab. Carn stares down the twin ribbons of steel at a sea of green saltbush that reaches out in every direction to the circular horizon. No houses, no trees; only telephone poles rushing by at 60 m.p.h. interrupt his view. "We used to stop and let the passengers pick wildflowers," Carn says. "There are 7,000 different kinds...