Word: trailered
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...fabled Dr.'s black bag in action. The driver who caused the accident was in the worst shape, suffering from a broken pelvis, internal bleeding and unbelievable pain. We were in a little draw, a canyon that served as a wind tunnel, and he, driving a pickup-trailer rig, was doing about 70 when the trailer was caught in a cross breeze and began to fishtail. After the trailer had totaled the side of one car coming at it, the whole rig rammed a camper, flipped and ejected the two riders. One had a few scratches. The other...
Soon cars gather around the trailer giving it some clubishness. I imagine its members as reckless romantics, with hearts that pump them out of planes, with a love for life so great that they're dying to risk it. But they slowly roll out of their cars, struggle to stand erect and stretch and scratch their heads, stomachs or buttocks. They yawn and speak of last night, of all that beer. A paunchy man, dressed in blue jeans and a dirty white sweat shirt ambles towards us. "You here to jump?" A moment of silence. "Well my, my name...
Outside the trailer a stocky man says that he's Bruce Maclaughlin, the instructor and jump master that will who will later on be the one who goes up in the plane with us and gives us the push out the door. Maclaughlin is as sharp-eyed and as brusque as a boot camp sergeant. He spreads his legs, arching and throwing his head back yelling, "ARCHTHOUSAND, TWO THOUSAND, THREE THOUSAND, FOUR THOUSAND, FIVE THOUSAND, SIX THOUSAND, LOOK" he looks to his left heel. "LOOK." He looks to a release on his right pelvis, "PULL". He pulls the release. "PUNCH...
...thousand, eight hundred feet above the trailer a single engine plane stalls, glides and drops two black dots. They grow. Their parachutes don't open but Maclaughlin ignores the two plummeting people. He looks steely-eyed at his charges, each of us with our heads tossed back, eyes wide open, jaws dropped, certain the two divers will, in less than 17 seconds, bounce and splatter on the grass. "Ooooo, ooooo" we say as two chutes blossom and the jumpers silently glide toward earth. Maclaughlin's brows are down, his lips pursed, his eyes still locked in on his students. "Snap...
...lakes. The air swirls silently. A band of trees approaches but I glance once more to the parachute, the sky and the horizon. The stiff branches of the trees mesh and grow larger. I cover my face, bring my feet together, and fall into the brush. At the trailer, Don hears loud snapping and sends out one of his assistants. Sal. Sal sprints across the field and comes to the edge of the woods. "You O.K.?" he yells. "Yeah," I answer. Sal bounds through the brush, crying, "It's the greatest, ain't it just the greatest?" "Yeah...