Word: mile
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...Piper's wreckage lay Monday in woods one mile from the airport, its nose dug into the ground and its wing wrapped around a tree. Guzzetti said part of its rudder and the entire vertical tail fin, a three-foot-tall triangle of aluminum, were ripped off the craft. Authorities said there was no sign of fire...
Hard-rock miners tend to think of themselves as semiheroic, crustier than cowboys, and when a site is inconvenient, they say, "You mine where the ore is." Henderson's ore is entirely surrounded by environmentalists. The Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness is not more than a mile away on all sides. Just + a bit farther, 2.5 miles to the southwest, is the great national park...
...Stadium, A Warning. Oh yes, something they don't always tell you when you come to Yale: The football stadium is nowhere near the campus. In fact, it's a good two mile walk out to the Westville section of New Haven. Westville's a quiet residential neighborhood (also the only spot in the city where Yale could place a 70,000 seat stadium.) Your walk should be bearable because thousands of other college students will be making it with you. On your way, you'll pass New Haven's newest pride and joy, the Connecticut Tennis Center, home...
...play the things that I should." The "some people" Graffin referred to may have been Meatloaf fans whose votes had the year before propelled an actor and a sycophant into the White House. More likely, however, "some people" was a reference to the punk rock community. Enamored of the mile-a-minute thrash of Jodie Foster's Army and Husker Dus's Land Speed Record, many early '80s punk rockers were hostile to Bad Religion simply because the band dared to cut melodious punk songs. And while the melody lines of early Bad Religion tunes were subsumed in chunky drum...
...when a farmer moved it from the garden of one of the town's most lavish estates into his apple orchard. The five-room house had belonged to the estate's gardener. That apple farmer and his family put the house on logs and rolled the house a half-mile across town and onto a foundation they had dug themselves. I discovered this history when my father first took a whack at the white plasterboard of the spare room. My father slammed the hammer's teeth into the wall, peeling away the flimsy board to reveal dark, cobwebbed wood...