Word: pits
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Previewing a style that might catch on for such sports as spelunking or Gaelic football for girls, Queen Elizabeth II donned black boots, bright white helmet and floppy boiler suit for a visit to the Rothes Colliery in Fife. As Britain's first pit-hopping Queen, Her Majesty drew gushes for the garb from the watchful press, even earned a wee handclap from fussy Royal Couturier Norman Hartnell: "Being English, of course she looks marvelous in all sports clothes...
...always been cost: aluminum for engines costs about three times as much as grey iron. Yet many engineers are coming around to the theory that costs even out in the long run, since aluminum costs less to machine and process. Moreover, it has many other advantages-no chip, no pit, no peel, no rust. But the biggest advantage of all is in performance. In recent tests with two cars identical except for a difference of 400 lbs. in weight, the lighter car accelerated and decelerated from 20% to 25% faster. In terms of gas consumption G.M.'s aluminum-engined...
...pull away. At the halfway mark he was still being tailed by Veterans Tony Bettenhausen and Johnny Boyd. Coming up fast was Rookie Driver George Amick. Each of the cars was powered by a four-cylinder Meyer-Drake Offenhauser engine. The drivers' skills and the speed of their pit crews meant more than any mechanical difference...
Seconds for Cash. Jimmy Bryan had an edge in both. His pit crew never kept him off the track more than 35 seconds at a stop. He drifted into curves and tore down the straightaways with the same swift talent that had won him the national driving championship three years in the last four. He fought the wheel with the husky skill that helped him last through the 1954 race after his shock absorbers and springs collapsed, and his whole body was bruised and bleeding from pounding of the bricks...
Even when he is not being bitten by foam-teeth, the hipster is a chronic manic-depressive ("Crazy, man!"; "Everything drags me now"). A kind of urban waif in the asphalt jungle, he regularly tastes despair, or what Kerouac calls "the pit and prunejuice of poor beat life itself in the god-awful streets of man." Sometimes he "flips," i.e., goes mad. Allen Ginsberg, 32, the discount-house Whitman of the Beat Generation, begins his dithyrambic poem Howl (which the New York Times's Critic J. Donald Adams has suggested should be retitled Bleat) with the lines...