Word: sand
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Florida tourists, viewing the Florida scrub from an Oklawaha River steamer, find it picturesque but not enticing. Even most Florida crackers think the scrub too bewilderingly wild to live in. But this impenetrable-seeming wilderness of pine and sand was just suited to Lantry Jacklin's taste. Onetime moonshiner in Ca'lina, he had killed a revenue man and fled to Florida; the scrub seemed the safest place he could find...
...vacuum might develop if there were not a small hole in the windshield. You see, through a pocket of glass, your car's long bonnet with a motor-revolution gauge a little to the right of where other cars have a radiator cap, outlined sharply against yellow sand. At one edge of your line of vision is a dark line made by a crowd of spectators and, on the other side, the flags 100 yd. apart marking your course. They go by like pickets in a fence. You feel the accelerator trembling against your foot because, although the sand...
...morning that he had the 2,500 h.p. Blue Bird towed to the end of the course, 40 yd. wide and nine miles long with the measured mile in the centre, the sand was still rough and strewn with shells. Sir Malcolm's left wrist, sprained on the gearshift in a 240-m.p.h. trial spin last fortnight, was still sore. A thin dangerous haze had not entirely disappeared when Sir Malcolm decided he could wait no longer...
...measured mile, the crowd on the dunes saw the huge crocodile-shaped car with its high steering tail, rocket past almost faster than they could turn their heads. Sir Malcolm put on his brakes when he had throttled down to 100 m.p.h., learned from mechanics who changed his sand-soaked tires that he had covered the mile in 13:16 sec. (273.5 m.p.h.). A few moments later he was at the north end of the beach, where he had started. His speed for the return run was 270.6 m.p.h. The average, 272.1 m.p.h., put mankind's record for land...
...play possesses many of the merits which it extolls; it is simple, homely, realistic. It is a worker's drama laid in a background of steel struts, huge cranes, belching steam-engines, stinking box-cars, wood, sand, and concrete. Rough, eager workers with rugged, seamed faces, and stick-like limbs garbed in coarse cloth toil, sweat, wonder, learn, and finally succeed. The most industrious brigade is awarded a banner, the laurel wreath of the worker's state. There is no pomp or glitter, little enough of comfort, many primitive growls and grunts, but no oratory: the whole tone is rough...