My 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

A couple of my teammates have the rare Ford F650 Super Truck, and they're kitted out with everything - even flat-screen TVs for movies and video-game systems in the back. — Ndamukong Suh

You put things off and then one morning you wake up and say - today I will change the oil in my truck. — Charles Portis

A drunk truck driver ran over me. I was in a Volkswagen. It was horrible. It sounds like a cliche, but anything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I give a lot of credit to my dad, who was a very strong guy. — Robert David Hall

You should know something about me. I joke around a lot. But I'm a pretty serious guy about some things. My job. My truck. My lucky boots." Which he just happened to be wearing tonight. "Making love. — B. J. Daniels

I have a nice car, a Mercedes. And then I have an old El Camino truck that I'm crazy about. I like to get in that truck and go up in the hills near where I live, in Vegas, and take my camera. That, to me, is Heaven, being out in nature, taking pictures of the wildlife. — B.B. King

My dad was a cross-country truck driver. — John Searles

I'm sure." I smiled and took a sip of coffee. "I don't want to be stranded on the side of the road. Will that old thing even make it that far?" He looked toward his truck. "That old thing hasn't let me down yet." "So how long will it take to get there?" "'bout six, six and a half hours. That should give me time to get settled into my motel room and practice a little before I go to the studio in the morning." I nodded. "Have you had breakfast?" "I ate at Mrs. Wrigley's when I dropped Amy off." "How about a cup of coffee?" I said. "No thanks. It'll just make me have to stop and pee." I laughed. I stood and stepped to him. "Call me when you get there. Okay?" "I'll call. I promise." He turned to look down at Bo, who sat in the yard looking up at us, stick in mouth, waiting. "I asked Mike to keep an eye on you while I'm gone," he said. "The — Heather Meyer

He gazes at the people in the truck. "Are you driving back with them?
Smiling, I nod. "Yes."
"With a bunch of dudes?"
"Yes."
"Is that safe?"
My smile expands into a face consuming grin. " I am safer in that truck than I am anywhere else. — Jessica Sorensen

Some field days can be tough. I've worked inside fuel tanks with 3 foot ceilings, in -42 to +42 Celsius temperatures, in snow and smoke and hail, and I've dug through snow and ice and pavement to find legal evidence. I've worked clear through the night by headlamp, and I've flown in a rickety long-islander with propane tanks strapped into the other seats. I've jury-rigged missing equipment, broken into my own truck, and cut out an emergency helicopter pad with a machete. I've been hungry, cold, tired, lost, injured, and downright hopeless! — Mark Mason

Is it ... can we ... is it safe?"
Tub checked the lot but he seemed unconcerned.
"Coach Lawrence nabbed him for practice. We live to fight another day, soldier."
"No ... I mean, the thing ... is it ... ?"
Tub frowned.
"The thing. Hmmm. Can you be more specific?
I clutched at the bumper and raised myself to unsteady feet. I patted the truck bed, taking solace in the cake of dust. It was real; I was not caught in a nightmare. I smeared the dust with my fingers and smelled it.
"If you lick that, we're no longer friends," Tub said. — Guillermo Del Toro

Last time I had a flat tire, I pulled my truck into one of those side-of-the-road gas stations. The attendant walks out, looks at my truck, looks at me, and I swear he said, Tire go flat? I couldn't resist. Said, Nope. I was driving around and those other three just swelled right up on me. Here's your sign. — Bill Engvall

Does she already have a man in White Horse? Who is he? I'll find out and scare him off. And if he doesn't scare? I'll beat him with a bat. I'll take an ax and chop him into tiny pieces. No, drag him behind my truck until he's mush. If any man in White Horse touches Candy besides me, I'll beat him until he's half dead. Then I'll let him get medical treatment and heal up, so I can beat him to death for real. — Bijou Hunter

Of course I'm getting ideas. You're hot and I'm not dead. But I know enough not to confuse lust with anything else."
She snorted and looked out her window. "Oh yes, Sean Kowalski. Your amazing kisses have made all rational thought fly out of my besotted brain. If only you could fill me with your magic penis, I know we'll fall madly in love and live happily ever after."
The truck jerked and she glanced over to find him glaring at her. "Don't ever say that again. — Shannon Stacey

Three Days of the Condor is still an interesting film to watch not because it's political. It happens to be political. But that's not why the sales of the DVDs are as high as they are. It's because it's an entertaining thriller. In my opinion, Tootsie is a very political movie but truck drivers can go and laugh at it. — Sydney Pollack

I just meant that a guy who's guarded his heart for so long might not be in the best position to judge."
"Ouch."
"Sorry." She reached across the cab of the truck and caressed his arm. "I promise to take the sting out of that owie remark as soon as I get you naked."
A grin shot to his face. "Now you're talkin' my kind of language. — Candis Terry

I had a Ford F-250. It was a big ol' farm truck, but it wasn't a rig. That's about the biggest I've ever driven. That's what I drove back and forth to high school. I was a poor guy, and it was a truck that my uncle owned and let me drive because I had no money. — Nathan Fillion

Which is more musical, a truck passing by a factory or a truck
passing by a music school?
Are the people inside the school musical and the ones outside unmusical?
What if the ones inside can't hear very well, would that change my question? — John Cage

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

I'm in a mood, Dave. A bad mood, a very bad mood! I was fired from my ice cream truck job today! No more Fudgicles! — Adam Sandler

Ultimately, I wanted to own a big truck, exercise my second Amendment rights, listen to hardcore music, and let my congressman know how poorly he represents me. None of this could occur in France. — Mark Twight

Madonna, she still has not showed, we see this empty cage now corrode, where her cape of the stage once had flowed, the fiddler he now steps to the road, on the back of the fish truck that loads, while my conscience explodes. — Bob Dylan

Do you need me to come pick you up? (Janine)
No. I appreciate the thought, but I have to wait on the tow truck, which seems to be the only thing moving slower than my DOA Firebird. (Taryn) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

As I watch Nicholas make his way back to his truck, I know one thing: this boy is going to make my life very interesting. I feel as if a fragment of the old me broke away tonight and disappeared, and I'm finally, truly beginning my new life. — Marie Landry

My father, a bakery-truck driver, was the epitome of the work ethic that probably kept me knocking out columns six days a week for a rough total of 12,600 over 50 years. — Irv Kupcinet

Leif gripped Benny's shoulders to hold him back, but he broke free and chased the truck, pumping his tiny arms and legs with great furry.
"I love you!" he called out, when he was just ten feet away. I gripped the metal bars, my throat choked with emotion.
"I love you!" Silas cried, as he followed.
They both kept after us, sprinting wildly behind the cage. I watched their mouths moving, saying those words over and again, as the truck bounded through the woods and their small bodies disappeared, unreachable, behind the trees. — Anna Carey

Contrary to popular opinion, my dad was not a lazy man. He was not lazy at all, for instance, when it came to Going Places In His Truck. He was also very industrious about Preparing To Go Camping. And if something really interested him, he would work on it all day. — Haven Kimmel

When I was 16, I used to drive huge loads of laundry in a three ton truck. I would turn round at night to drive back and see the band in a place north of Toronto called Dunn's Pavilion. I would drive that truck all day and they drive back and all the way until one day I wrecked the truck. I fell asleep and wrecked it. I was OK and so was my helper. I called my dad and the first words out of his mouth were, "are you OK?" I was really lucky I had a kind father. — Gordon Lightfoot

I reached into my pack and held something small in the fist I made. "It's a pocketknife," I said, enunciating each letter. I was asserting myself, I'd snapped out of something; he visibly snapped out of something too. I saw it acutely in his dropping posture: doubt in his movement. I said, "The truck works."

And so it did. — Aspen Matis

When I'm with you, bells go off in my head like a moving truck that's backing up. — Jodi Picoult

What happened was, they put me and my co-marshal, author Ridley Pearson, into an antique fire truck along with Daisy Duck and Clarabelle the Cow. I have nothing against either of these veteran Disney characters, but let's be honest, their careers are not currently sizzling, especially in the case of Clarabelle, who hasn't had a hit cartoon since roughly the Civil War. — Dave Barry

My mother always tells me that when I was a little kid, my first ambition was to be a truck driver, and after that, I went through everything from wanting to be a Prime Minister to an air hostess, but never an actor. So I became one, and it was a great journey. I learnt a lot, worked very hard. — Preity Zinta

Let's take my truck," Jim said as he hit the gravel. "Less noise."
And it has a radio, right?" With tragic concentration Adrian started warming up his voice, sounding like a moose being backstroked by a chesse grater.
Jim shook his head at Eddie as the doors opened "How can you stand that racket?"
Selective deafness"
Teach me,master. — J.R. Ward

I've died 3 times, I've been shot in the back, stabbed once in my arm, stabbed 2 times in my back, run over by a truck, been poisoned, broke both of my arms, nose (3 times broken), ribs, both legs, but a broken heart hurt me the most. — Steve Kaufman

One final thought. In the years leading up to my trial, whenever I was caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the highway leading to my cottage, creeping along behind a battered, rust eaten pick-up truck with a sticker on its rear bumper that read JESUS SAVES, I used to think don't count on it, buster. Now I am no longer sure. — Mordecai Richler

Grimm: BeeWare (#1.3) (2011)
Nick Burkhardt: I don't need you for what you know, I need your nose.
Monroe: Oh, I get it. So little Timmy's stuck in a well, you need Lassie to come find him. You really know how to butter a guy up for a favor.
Nick Burkhardt: I've got a '77 Bordeaux in my truck
Monroe: I can maybe catch a scent. — Jacob Grimm

The police arrived and went to question the driver of the truck, who was still sitting in his cab, scratching his head. The truck looked as if nothing had happened to it. ... The police were giving the driver a hard time, though. They too had worked out that the man sitting dazed and wounded on the grass was Salman Rushdie, and so they wanted to know, what was the driver's religion? The driver was bewildered. "What's my religion got to do with anything?" Well, was he a Muzlim? An Islammic? Was he Eye-ray-nian? Is that why he had tried to kill Mr. Rushdie? Maybe one of the Ayatoller's fellers? Was he carrying out the whatever it was called, the fatso? The poor driver shook his confused head. He didn't know who the guy was he had hit. He had just been driving this truck and didn't know about any fatso. In the end the police believed him and sent him on his way. — Salman Rushdie

The only trouble was, I wasn't with a group of my peers. Who are my peers? [ ... ] And there I was with a dismal coven of repentant soaks
a car salesman who had fallen from the creed of the Kiwanis, an Jewish woman whose family misunderstood her attempts to put them straight on everything, a couple of schoolteachers who can't ever have taught anything except Civics, and some business men whose god was Mammon, and a truck-driver who was included, I gather, to keep our eyes on the road and our discussions hitched to reality. Whose reality? Certainly not mine. So the imp of perversity prompted me to make pretty patterns of our discussions together, and screw the poor boozers up worse then they'd been screwed up before. For the first time in years, I was having a really good time. — Robertson Davies

As soon as we were inside, Edwart's family rushed to greet me. What seemed like thirty people circled me, chattering away.
"Oh my god, you smell good."
"Good smell, good smell."
"(she really does smell good.)"
"do you mind if I put my nose right on you? Right on your arm?"
"More smelly smelly please."
"If I could destroy every part of my brain except the part that smelled your smell, I would do it. I would do it in a second."
"Let's go, Belle," Edwart whispered and grabbed my hand. We pushed through the ravenous vampires nad out the front door.
"So that went well!" I said outside in the U-HAUL. I sniffed my hair. I did smell good.
"No, no, that wasn't my house," Edwart said, starting the truck. "I don't even know those people! Sometimes I get addresses confused. — The Harvard Lampoon

It quickly became a tracking operation, though. My chariot could not keep up with his truck. By the time I caught up with him, his truck was parked in one of those asphalt wastelands. What are they called again"?
The Tuatha De Danann have no problem asking Druids for information. That's what we're for, after all. The secret to becoming an Old Druid instead of a dead Druid is to betray nary a hint of condescension when answering even the simplest questions.
"They are called parking lots," I replied.
"Ah, yes, thank you. He came out of a building called 'Crussh', holding one of these potions. Are you familar with the building, Druid?"
"I belive that is a smoothie bar in England."
"Quite right. So after I killed him and stowed his body next to the doe, I sampled his smooth concoction in the parking lot and found it to be quite delicious".
See, sentences like that are why I nurture a healthy fear of the Tuatha De Danann. — Kevin Hearne

Then I drew in a breath, and my renewed will with it, lifted the rod in my right hand, murmured a phrase in a language I didn't know, and blew the tires off his fucking truck. — Jim Butcher

What the Hell is a meteor hammer?" "Big heavy steel ball on the end of a long chain." "Huh. Have you ever used it on a person?" Ember got very interested in her beverage. "Oh, no, Officer Miranda. No matter what my cheating skag of an ex-boyfriend says about the hail damage to his truck, I've never used it on anyone or anything that wasn't a legitimate practice target at my sifu's school." Ember — Bryan Fields

Then one day Chip showed up with the back of his pickup truck just loaded with old metal letters he'd found at a flea market--big, oddly shaped letters taken from various old signs. They were mismatched and rusty and dented--and I loved them. We tacked them up on the front of the shop, spelling out the name that would come to mean so much: Magnolia. The letters were uneven and looked a little handmade and ragged, but it seemed to work. I loved this sign because Chip designed it and made it with his own two hands. It came together in such an imperfectly perfect way, and I hoped people would get it.

To this day that sign is one of my proudest accomplishments. I'm no Joanna Gaines, but I certainly see things differently and love design in my own unique way. That first sign really reflected that for me. I would glow when I would hear a customer come in the shop and say, "I saw the sign and just had to stop in. — Joanna Gaines

I've sold shoes, hawked newspapers, jerked sodas, gazed rapturously at the tinsel dream at the end of a runway from my usher's aisle in a burley-cue, drove a truck - then because I didn't like being pushed around, started pushing a pencil around. — Burne Hogarth

She makes my old pick-up truck feel like a limousine. — Rhett Akins

This is what I chose. This is it." I look over Robert's shoulder. The Dauntless guards seem to have finished examining the truck. The bearded man gets back into the driver's seat and closes the door behind him. "Besides, Robert. The goal of my life isn't just ... to be happy." "Wouldn't it be easier if it was, though?" he says — Veronica Roth

My advice is: if you've got to be miserable to write great music, then drive a truck. — Chris Isaak

Sometimes I think some of my fellow novelists who have not worked in television and film are very naive about this process. They get an offer and there's the dump truck full of money and they sign it, they cash the check and then they're not involved in the series. They may get invited to the premiere and they come out of the premiere looking like all of their children had just been gassed, with a stunned look on their face because everything has been changed. — George R R Martin

Oh look," she pointed to them, a fine example of two people in love. Ruin paused and looked from them to her several times before whispering, "You want to? Now?' "Oh my God," she muttered, shaking her head. "Those two are in love, I was trying to show you but of course you'd only think of sex." Ruin followed her to the truck, still watching the couple while he climbed into the driver seat. "Are you sure we're not in love? Pretty sure we look just like that, minus all the laughing. — Lucian Bane

On the TV and in the newspapers all we hear and read is 'live your life or the terrorists win' and it sounds great, I'm all for that, except my kids won't ask for a bathroom pass because the faculty facilities are on the first floor of the building and the MPs patrolling the second floor won't go downstairs on their shift - so I've got middle school kids afraid to take a piss because there might be a soldier in the stall next to them carrying a loaded M- 16 - but hell yes, I'm all for 'live your life' and screw the terrorists, and screw all the countries who harbor and support them. I'm on board with that, except I've got these kids who stay home now, because they're scared riding a bus with soldiers carrying guns, knowing that one soldier isn't enough, so there's a military truck full of soldiers with even bigger guns following the bus 'just in case. — Tucker Elliot

I've got a lot of stuff in the bed of my truck. — Nicholas Sparks

DEAR MISS MANNERS:
Should you tell your mother something if it is important when she is talking to company? I am six.
GENTLE READER:
Yes, you should (after saying "Excuse me"). Here are some of the things that are important to tell your mother, even though she is talking to company:
"Mommy, the kitchen is full of smoke."
"Daddy's calling from Tokyo."
"Kristen fell out of her crib and I can't put her back."
"There's a policeman at the door and he says he wants to talk to you."
"I was just reaching for my ball, and the goldfish bowl fell over."
Now, here are some things that are not important, so they can wait until your mother's company has gone home:
"Mommy, I'm tired of playing blocks. What do I do now?"
"The ice-cream truck is coming down the street."
"Can I give Kristen the rest of my applesauce?"
"I can't find my crayons."
"When are we going to have lunch? I'm hungry. — Judith Martin

I wouldn't want to go back over my life. I've done it all. I wouldn't have wanted to miss the Marine Corps. I wouldn't have wanted to miss the war. I wouldn't have missed college. Or playin' for the Colts. I got all the money I need. Five children. I got a truck. I have no regrets whatsoever. — Art Donovan

What I do know is that I wasn't happy about the direction my life was going until you got in my truck that first night. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Erin. I'm just ... I'm winging it. I was kinda hoping you would wing it with me — Jamie McGuire

At around 8 pm we heard the sound of sirens. As the sound drew nearer and nearer, we caught sight of a fire truck. As it reached the hotel, the truck pulled into the parking lot with emergency lights shining and horns blasting. It came to a stop in front of our congregation. We didn't see a fire or any other emergency in the immediate vicinity, so this was quite unexpected. Perhaps our smell had been reported as some kind of toxic leak or spill? Firemen began to pour out of the truck carrying different trays covered in foil. I could hardly believe my eyes. The local Franklin Fire Department had brought us all a spaghetti and meatball dinner! They also brought salad and pudding for desert. This was an example of trail magic at its finest. — Kyle Rohrig

My grandfather was a persuasive man who made friends with people at every level of influence. In order to fight against our tribe's termination, he went to newspapers and politicians and urged them to advocate for our tribe in Washington. He also supported his family through the Depression as a truck farmer. — Louise Erdrich

I sleep all day. Noises flit around the house- garbage truck in the alley, rain, tree rapping against the bedroom window. I sleep. I inhabit sleep firmly, willing it, wielding it, pushing away dreams, refusing, refusing. Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion. [ ... ] It is afternoon, it is night, it is morning. Everything is reduced to this bed, this endless slumber that makes the days into one day, makes time stop, stretches and compacts time until it is meaningless. — Audrey Niffenegger

My vision of the border with Mexico is that a truck from the United States going into Mexico and a truck coming from Mexico into the United States will pass each other at the border going 60 miles an hour. Yes, we should have open borders. — Gary Johnson

When I got out of high school I hit the road. I lived like a gypsy. Those were the best times of my life. I was living from club to club not knowing where my next meal was coming from. No credit cards, no apartment, no bills, no managers, just on the road with a truck and five guys. — Rex Smith

Swivel around wildly and finally spot Minnie. She's balanced on a stone bench, tussling with Suze's son Wilfrid over a red plastic truck. "Pleeease!" she's yelling crossly. "Pleeease!" Now, to my horror, she starts hitting Wilfrid with the truck, yelling with each blow: "Please! Please! Please!" The trouble is, Minnie hasn't really absorbed the spirit of the word "please. — Sophie Kinsella

Yes, I call my scooter Jessie, and I don't think that's weird in the slightest."
(...) "Doesn't your truck have a name ?" she asked Blake with mock surprise.
"Sure. Toyota... — M.J. Hearle

I still haven't found the humor in getting hit by a cement truck. My knees still hurt when I think about it, so no jokes about that yet. — Adam DeVine

Despair

Who is he?
A railroad track toward hell?
Breaking like a stick of furniture?
The hope that suddenly overflows the cesspool?
The love that goes down the drain like spit?
The love that said forever, forever
and then runs you over like a truck?
Are you a prayer that floats into a radio advertisement?
Despair,
I don't like you very well.
You don't suit my clothes or my cigarettes.
Why do you locate here
as large as a tank,
aiming at one half of a lifetime?
Couldn't you just go float into a tree
instead of locating here at my roots,
forcing me out of the life I've led
when it's been my belly so long?

All right!
I'll take you along on the trip
where for so many years
my arms have been speechless — Anne Sexton

I like Daniel. He takes care of you."
I blinked. "Oh my God. Did you really just say that? He takes care of me?"
Dad flushed. "I didn't mean it like-"
"Takes care of me? Did I go to sleep and wake up in the nineteenth century?" I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt. "Ack! I can't go to school like this. Where's my corset? My bonnet?"
Dad sighed as Mom walked in with her empty teacup.
"What did I miss?" She said.
"Dad's trying to marry me off to Daniel." I looked at him.
"You know, if you offer him a new truck for a dowry, he might go for it. — Kelley Armstrong

Fifteen minutes later I'm hunched over the steering wheel of a two-seater that looks like something you'd find in your corn flakes packet. The Smart is insanely cute and compact, does about seventy miles to a gallon, and is the ideal second car for nipping about town but I'm not nipping about town. I'm going flat out at maybe a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour on the autobahn while some joker is shooting at me from behind with a cannon that fires Porsches and Mercedes. Meanwhile, I'm stuck driving something that handles like a turbocharged baby buggy. I've got my fog lights on in a vain attempt to deter the other road users from turning me into a hood ornament, but the jet wash every time another executive panzer overtakes me keeps threatening to roll me right over onto my roof. And that's before you factor in the deranged Serbian truck drivers driven mad with joy by exposure to a motorway that hasn't been cluster-bombed and then resurfaced by the lowest bidder. — Charles Stross

My writing is done in railroad yards while waiting for a freight, in the fields while waiting for a truck, and at noon after lunch. Towns are too distracting. — Eric Hoffer

Being a Chicano in Hollywood, my experience is that you're not given credit for any sophistication ... You're just kind of some guy that just crossed the border, you know, on the back of a truck and that's it. — Cheech Marin

School sucks. I'm dropping out and becoming a truck stop waitress. I think i'll change my name to Flo and get a really bad perm. Flo the truck stop waitress with a bad perm doesn't need high school. She lives off the knowledge of life. — Tammy Blackwell

I often conduct interviews in my truck. — William Shatner

Just about every weekend when I was growing up, we would throw rods and rifles and tents and shovels and pickaxes into the back of the truck and then head off to the side of a mountain or the bottom of a canyon. Hiking, fishing, hunting, rock-hounding: this is how my parents passed the time. — Benjamin Percy

I'm loading a dump truck full of mulch for a landscaping job when my cell phone rings. It's hot day and I wipe the sweat off my brow while removing one of my work gloves. It's hard labor, no question, — Faith Sullivan

There's an energy to these autumn nights that touches something primal inside of me. Something from long ago. From my childhood in Western Iowa. I think of high school football games and the stadium lights blazing down on the players. I smell ripening apples, and the sour reek of beer from keg parties in the cornfields. I feel the wind in my face as I ride in the bed of an old pickup truck down a country road at night, dust swirling red in the taillights and the entire span of my life yawning out ahead of me.

It's the beautiful thing about youth.

There's a weightlessness that permeates everything because no damning choices have been made, no paths committed to, and the road forking out ahead is pure, unlimited potential. — Blake Crouch

that I had to know you, that I needed you in my life. I've never felt that way about anyone, ever. Whatever happens will be up to you, but I'll be a different man if I can't have you. I will never breathe as deeply as I did when I was with you. I'll never see the range of color on a perfectly cloudless sky. I will never smell anything as sweet as you or hear a voice that fills my heart up as much as yours does. That night in my truck, when I had the low, I knew without a doubt, even though I had never been in love before . . . I knew that I was in love with you. — Renee Carlino

Jason and his parents lived directly across the street. He was outside that day trying to get some mail-order rocket to soar into the heavens. What a rip-off! The whole time I was watching him, the stupid thing never made it a yard off the ground. It was after about the hundredth try, when the movers had half the truck unloaded, that I noticed his ass rolling his beady eyes at me. I was using a piece of pink chalk to draw a makeshift hopscotch diagram on the street in front of my house when he approached me. His Kangol hat and leather bomber jacket made him look like a pint-size pimp. All he needed was a couple of gold teeth. — Zane

In 1951, a man bought a pickup truck because he needed to load things up and move them. Things like bricks and bags of feed. Somewhere along the line trendsetters and marketers got involved, and now we buy pickups
big, horse-powered, overbuilt, wide-assed, comfortable pickups
so that we may stick our key in the ignition of an icon, fire up an image, and drive off in a cloud of connotations. I have no room to talk. I long to get my International running part so I can drive down roads that no longer exist. — Michael Perry

After a short time I felt my truck began to move. The force of the water and the rising floodwaters lifted me and my truck off the road and through an orchard, bumping into trees, flood debris and who knows what else. — Steven C. Smith

I grew up in a household that was a labor household. My dad was a Teamster and a milk truck driver. My mother was a secretary. Neither of them got through high school. But they worked hard and they gave me very, very important opportunities to go to school, get a good education. — Dick Gephardt

I'm not the kind that could lead the millionaire lifestyle. I've got a truck, and I've got my bike. I've got a lovely Labrador and two kitty-cats. I live very modestly. — Sophie B. Hawkins

South Africa used to seem so far away. Then it came home to me. It began to signify the meaning of white hatred here. That was what the sheets and the suits and the ties covered up, not very well. That was what the cowardly guys calling me names from their speeding truck wanted to happen to me, to all of me: to my people. That was what would happen to me if I walked around the corner into the wrong neighborhood. That was Birmingham. That was Brooklyn. That was Reagan. That was the end of reason. South Africa was how I came to understand that I am not against war; I am against losing the war. — June Jordan

Look, we can stand out here and argue about it for the next ten minutes, but you're getting in this truck."
My eyes narrowed. "Let me remind you of something. I don't know you. Like at all."
"And I'm not asking you to get naked and give me a private show." Pausing, his gaze seemed to drift down my body again. "Although, that is way interesting. A bad idea, but way interesting. — J. Lynn

Certainly,' said his mother, 'but first I want to know about the accident with your bicycle.'
Well,' Phillip said, 'if you wanta really know. I was sitting in the basket of my bike ridin' down Mission Hill backwards singing 'Polly Wolly Doodle' and I saw the bread truck comin' and I guess I didn't turn soon enough and I ran into the Wallaces' iron fence and I caught my shoe on the pedal and my pants on a picket and I hit my eye on the handlebars and I don't know what else happened. But, boy, you should have heard the kids and that ole breadman laugh! — Betty MacDonald

One day as Father and I were returning from our walk we found the Grote Markt cordoned off by a double ring of police and soldiers. A truck was parked in front of the fish mart; into the back were climbing men, women, and children, all wearing the yellow star ...
"Father! Those poor people!" I cried ...
"Those poor people," Father echoed. But to my surprise I saw that he was looking at the solders now forming into ranks to march away. "I pity the poor Germans, Corrie. They have touched the apple of God's eye. — Corrie Ten Boom

I go four- wheeling in my truck. I also like to fish, cook, do stuff around my house. I even studied fencing for awhile. — Luke Perry

Sloane shook his head. He pushed Dex from behind, guiding him into the lobby,"Get in the damn truck before I shoot you."
"You know, you should try yoga. Find a way to channel all that aggression."
Sloane gave Dex another push. "I have found a way. It's called shoving my foot up your ass."
"That doesn't sound very relaxing. — Charlie Cochet

My name is Mila, and this is my journey.
There are so many places where I could begin the story. I could start in the town where I grew up, in Kryvicy, on the banks of the Servac River, in the district of Miadziel. I could begin when I was eight years old, on the day my mother died, or when I was twelve, and my father fell beneath the wheels of the neighbour's truck. But I think I should begin my story here, in the Mexican desert, so far from my home in Belarus. This is where I lost my innocence. This is where my dreams died. — Tess Gerritsen

He is quiet for a minute, then turns his head to look at me. "Where were you when I was twelve?"
"Well, I was nine." I cut my eyes over to him. "And probably locked in the back of a Ho-Ho truck, eating my way to freedom. Yeah, that really happened. — Nicole Christie

Now you," Grandma barks at him. "Yes, you, the invisible truck driver," she added, giving me a wicked grin. "Go stand next to Rose over there by the stone bench and smile like you mean it."
"Yes, ma'am," Will said.
"I am not to be called ma'am. My name is Maggie," she crabbed.
"Well, I also have a name. It's Will," he shot back.
Everyone stopped. We held our breath, waiting to see what Grandma would say next, but she just smiled at him. "I like this one, Rose. He's got spunk. — Donna Freitas

Sometimes I'd see my father, walking past my building on his way to another nowhere. I could have given him a key, offered a piece of my floor. A futon. A bed. But I never did. If I let him inside I would become him, the line between us would blur, my own slow-motion car wreck would speed up. The slogan on the side of a moving company truck read TOGETHER WE ARE GOING PLACES
modified by a vandal or a disgruntled employee to read TOGETHER WE ARE GOING DOWN. If I went to the drowning man the drowning man would pull me under. I couldn't be his life raft. — Nick Flynn

Here's the thing, Grace," Cal said, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Ever since that first day when you smacked me in the head with your field hockey stick-"
"You just can't let that go, can you?" I muttered.
He grinned fully now. "-and even when you hit me with the rake and dented my truck, and when you were spying on me from your attic and your dog was mauling me, Grace, I always knew you were the one for me. — Kristan Higgins

I drink because I don't stand a chance and I know it. I couldn't drive a truck and I couldn't get on the cops with my build. I got to sling beer and sing when I just want to sing. I drink because I got responsibilities that I can't handle ... I am not a happy man. I got a wife and children and I don't happen to be a hard-working man. I never wanted a family ... Yes, your mother works hard. I love my wife and I love my children. But shouldn't a man have a better life? Maybe someday it will be that the Unions will arrange for a man to work and to have time for himself too. But that won't be in my time. Now, it's work hard all the time or be a bum ... no in-between. When I die, nobody will remember me for long. No one will say, "He was a man who loved his family and believed in the Union." All they will say is," Too bad. But he was nothing but a drunk no matter which way you look at it." Yes they'll say that. — Betty Smith

The truck blasts through the trees and I stick my hand out the window, trying to catch the wind in my palm like bails used to, missing her, missing the girl I used to be around her, missing who we all used to be. We will never be those people again. She took them all with her. — Jandy Nelson

I ended up in the back seat of a chicken truck's cab heading through beautiful scenery and disastrous roads to my hotel. About an hour later, we stopped to sell a few hundred of the chickens to a butcher shop. — Jennifer S. Alderson

Dawn is breaking, sending pale fingers of cold light across the hills that surround the Harrisons' farmyard. Jess is being difficult, rearing and trying to bolt away from the truck, and we've been at it for some time when Liam comes out of the house and sees our predicament. He marches across the yard, picks up a piece of cut-off hosepipe and walks up behind the pony. I see the look on Alec's face as his dad approaches, and he's not happy. Liam tells his son to "walk her up" and then cracks the mare around the rump with the piece of pipe when she plants her feet. The sound of the pipe hitting the pony echoes across the hills and rings in my ears. Jess starts to rear but earns another whack around the backside, so scrambles up the ramp and stands trembling in the truck. Alec quickly ties her up, his expression unreadable. — Kate Lattey

My dad was the district attorney of New Orleans for about 30 years. And when he opened his campaign headquarters back in the early '70s, when I was 5 years old, my mother wanted me to play the national anthem. And they got an upright piano on the back of a flatbed truck and I played it. — Harry Connick Jr.

A hand touched my shoulder, shaking me. I was back on the bus. It was dark and warm and I just wanted to sleep, but Chloe kept shaking my shoulder.
"Tori?" she whispered. "We're at a truck stop. It's Derek. He ... he's not feeling good. It could be the Change again. He needs to get off the bus. I'm going with him."
"Mmmph."
"Are you awake? Did you hear what I said?"
"Yeah, yeah. Derek Changing. You going."
She said something else, but I was already drifting back to sleep. Then she was gone.
I bolted upright in the pool house. Chloe had told me they were getting off the bus. Damn it! I'd screwed up. — Kelley Armstrong

Whether I was a genius or not did not so much concern me as the fact that I simply did not want a part of anything. The animal-drive and energy of my fellow man amazed me: that a man could change tires all day long or drive an ice cream truck or run for Congress or cut into a man's guts in surgery or murder, this was all beyond me. I did not want to begin. I still don't. Any day I that I could cheat away from this system of living seemed a good victory for me. — Charles Bukowski

It means my luck sucks," she said. "It was nice dating a guy wo treated me like a friend instead of a blow-up doll."
"You were the one trying to unzip my pants in the truck!"
"Yeah, well, I thought you weren't interested. I didn't realize that your divining rod just pointed into a different direction."
"You're killing me," he said. But it sounded like he was smiling. — Brigid Kemmerer

As I wrote in Pastrix I, like any good middle-class mainline Protestant, tend to arrogantly look down my theological nose at talk of demon possession as superstitious snake-handling nonsense, as though it's the spiritual equivalent of a monster truck rally. — Nadia Bolz-Weber

Hey, Breanna."
I glance over my shoulder. "Yes?"
"Be safe."
Those are two enticing and lovely words. "I will be. I have you protecting me, right?"
Maybe I'm misreading Razor, but his eyes travel my body like he might toss me onto the bed of the truck and kiss me in a way I've never been kissed before. "Don't worry. I completely have your back. — Katie McGarry

I couldn't think of anyone I'd ever felt sorry for. There were plenty of kids I was envious of. There were others I achingly admired, but that might simply be another form of jealousy. Then there were those I feared, dreaded. And the worst of them, the man who shamed me. I could see my father's angry features looming over my mother. I could clearly picture her beside him in his truck, cowering against the door while he belittled and assaulted her.
I guess I did know someone I felt sorry for. — Richelle E. Goodrich