Word: truckfuls
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...Forced out of the forest and into the baking sunlight of the logging road, the confident warrior has transformed into a weak and confused old man. He has put on a purple T shirt and blue shorts to hitch a ride with his wife Iot in a pickup truck to get some medical help. Usually voluble, Along falls silent, his face clenched in anxiety as they approach town. Now and then he inquires aloud whether there is any cash to pay for the hotel and the doctor. Along has no money; he never does. That...
...pickup driver, a native Dayak called Jake, says the two-ton logging trucks, each loaded with four or five huge logs, make a combined total of 168 trips a day. Each time a truck passes them, the open bed of the pickup is enveloped in a choking cloud of yellow dust. Along buries his head in his wife's white T shirt. He keeps his head pressed down long after the truck has passed, and several others have taken its place, refusing to watch, clinging onto Iot's shoulders. Perhaps it is better that Bruno Manser disappeared: the logging trucks...
...structured affinity, at that: Fatah militants on the ground have created "Popular Resistance Committees" in which they've forged a common front with the major Islamist groups and leftist factions. This grassroots "government of national unity" has no truck with internationally-brokered cease-fires; its objective is to wage war on the occupation. And that gives Arafat precious little room to maneuver. In July, when Gaza PA security operative Mousa Arafat had some local Hamas militants arrested, he found his home surrounded by armed men from Fatah, and Islamist and leftist groups - the standoff ended only after he agreed...
...immediately dismounted, staggered in a circle and approached my fans, who had gathered along the fence. Fourteen-year-old Brian Rylander, who was sitting on an ATV and used to own a go-cart monster truck, said he thought I was a professional. I handed him an autograph reading "To Brian: Keep on monstering--Air Joel" that he clearly didn't want...
...fixed route. Sometimes I would hitch a ride on an army truck and go wherever it would take me; sometimes I would toss a coin at a crossroads to decide which way to head. When my money ran out, I found ways of making enough to keep me going. I became a fortune-teller, a hairdresser, a peddler of fake toothpaste and pink chiffon scarves. I helped make sofas in Guizhou province and fished for yellow carp on Qinghai Lake. In the cities, I would camp in flea-ridden hostels, in the countryside I would often just sleep...