Leaned Truck Quotes & Sayings

(knitting while on a motorcycle)
For several years she knitted in secret (my father would not approve; she was to concentrate on motorcycling and LEAN into the curves, etc), and used a small circular needle (socks and mittens) in order to keep the knitting in her pocket until they were under way; then she leaned back slightly so Gaffer couldn't feel the movement of her hands.
On the interstate one day, they were slowly passing a semi and my father happened to see the truck driver laugh and point out my mother's knitting to his passenger. Whoops- — Elizabeth Zimmermann

Impulsively, she leaned across the truck and kissed him on the cheek. He glanced over in surprise when she pulled away, but pleasure glowed in his eyes.
"What was that for?"
"Just seemed like the thing to do," she said.
"Well, feel free to do it more often," he encouraged. "I assure you I won't mind. — Maya Banks

My grin tipped up on one side. "I'm sorry. Who asked about the television screens in my truck?"
Her lush lips thinned. "And how long did it take you to pick out the watermelon? Thirty minutes?"
"Twenty-nine," I shot back. "And it's the best fucking watermelon I've ever had. Worth every minute."
A single brow quirked. "You want a medal?"
I leaned over the counter and she met my stare. I wasn't sure what was happening, but it seemed like the air cracked with electricity, heating my skin, quickening my pulse. This couldn't be normal. Maybe I was getting sick. I'd overheated in all of the seventy-eight degrees outside. Yeah, that had to be it.
"I'd love one."
It was so fast, I almost missed it. Her gaze dipped to my mouth before dropping to the island again. "There isn't any more room on your shelf for one more medal."
"I'll just put up another shelf."
"I'm sure you would. — Ashlan Thomas

I'm done waiting. Done doing things the easy way and letting things happen as they will."
Her heart caught. "What does that mean?"
"It means this is too important to let slip away again. You're too important." He leaned back against the truck with a low grunt of effort, eyes dark, jaw clenched. "I love you too, Tara. — Jill Shalvis

Coyotes move within a landscape of attentiveness. I have seen their eyes in the creosote bushes and among mesquite trees. They have watched me. And all the times that I saw no eyes, that I kept walking and never knew, there were still coyotes. When I have seen them trot away, when I have stepped from the floorboard of my truck, leaned on the door, and watched them as they watched me over their shoulders, I have been aware for that moment of how much more there is. Of how I have only seen only an instant of a broad and rich life. — Craig Childs

Conspicuous lesbians abounded - it's hard to miss teenage queers who have yet to figure out subtlety - and, though I can't deny that I like my girls a little rough, most leaned so heavily on the dyke archetype that they looked like a Timberland truck crashed into Lilith Fair. — Valentine Glass

Victor spread his hands and beamed. "There's a truckload of supplies sitting on a dock in Madera. We got food, medicine, and machines ready to roll. All we need is a pigheaded truck driver with giant cojones and no brains to ram the stuff past the blockade and save the day." The pilot leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "Naturally, I thought of Abel Yeager. — Scott Bell

Twenty unsettling minutes later she dropped the
pen on her stack of papers, and then leaned back in her chair. The time seemed to be dragging like a immobile car without tires hooked to a tow-truck with square wheels traveling cautiously down a road of fresh gravel. Tess struggled to maintain focus, similar to how an alternator belt would struggle if it had to try to keep traction on a turn spindle that had been lubricated after an antifreeze leak. And similar to the - would be - alternator on the sidelines of that metaphor, Tess's enthusiasm for her after hours work was having difficulty in keeping charged up also. — Calvin W. Allison

Esperanza leaned around the side of the truck. As they rounded a curve, it appeared as if the mountains pulled away from each other, like a curtain opening on stage, revealing the San Joaquin Valley beyond. Flat and spacious, it spread out like a blanket of patchwork fields. Esperanza could see no end to the plots of yellow, brown, and shades of green. The road finally leveled out on the valley floor, and she gazed back at the mountains from where they'd come. They looked like monstrous lions' paws resting at the edge of ridge. — Pam Munoz Ryan

Gracie leaned out the back, craning her neck as far as she could around the side, trying to catch the wind in her nose and flapping lips. She loved driving, and this car was much faster than the truck which hauled her cage. It was very green here, and the sun flashed and flickered behind the tall trees. There were a million smells along this road, both old and just born. She closed her eyes and huffed, pretending she was flying. — Cole Alpaugh

Judge leaned back in the passenger seat of Michaels' truck, content as could be. They'd stayed at the cabin an entire week, after Judge fully convinced Michaels' Lieutenants that they needed the time together. They learned more of each other, physically, but especially emotionally. They were compatible on so many levels. Both men as simple as the days. Relationships were scary and took work, but Judge believed theirs would come easily. Why he'd had such negative thoughts in the beginning was a mystery to him. He knew Michaels loved him, really loved him. Nothing was guaranteed, life didn't promise tomorrow. Michaels was a cop, he had a dangerous job, so Judge would have to learn to trust in his partner's instincts and believe in him. Believe he knew what he was doing and he'd come home to him every night. They — A.E. Via

I think the black suits you more than the brown did." "Oh yeah?" "Brings out your eyes." "Is that what you look for in cowboy hats?" "Maybe. You know, in high school, if a girl got a guy to give her his Stetson, it was a sure thing they were going steady," Zane said, his voice heated and smug. Zane's attempts at flirting were a never-ending source of amusement. And damn him, they were starting to work. "You saying I'd make a great Texan girl?" "I'm saying you look damn good in my hat," Zane growled. He cupped Ty's chin with one hand and leaned over in the shadowed truck cab to kiss him. — Abigail Roux