The rode bumped along as the two newly weds found that the tires they had would not stand up to the journey to the hotel. In an instant the car hit a pot hole and their right tire made a distinct popping noise.
screeching. winter. muddy. scattered around the backyard. plain. boring. flat. bleak. narrow and wide. tire marks at the crime scene. burning tires used in the village ceremonies at the day of the dead/haloween or whatever it is called.
the last thing i saw, were the piles of tires. They were just sitting there, in my yard, like they had been for the last 19 years. my dad never was one to clean up his messes. maybe one day those tires would be gone. or maybe one day, ill come home and things wouldnt have changed at all.
tires remind me of cars. and cars take you places. but what happens when your tires deflate? it means your stuck. so pump a little air in your tires and youll be back on your way. sometimes all you need is a little uplifting, and you can be rolling away, going places, and onto new things.
The tires left tread marks on the pavement, the screech of brakes and angry shouts from windows open left in their wake. The explosion of a vehicle against a tree, loud and echoing, and set ablaze. The scene was set for the end of the night. All that was need now were actors and actresses to play the part of the sad family and the tragic victim. But the stage remained empty.
Goes round fast and if too fast or too hot will melt and you will have no where to go. If needed a tire can be a swing, from a tree, in the wind that kids who can’t drive will fly in the air on a nice summers day. Just keep the roads clean from nails and the weather cool.
the tires squealed to a stop. jack couldn’t believe his eyes. the man he was looking at gave him a queer feeling. a sense of deja vu mixed with a slight hatred but he didn’t know why either of these strange sensations began to trickle into his mind. the look in the man’s eyes hinted that he knew why jack began to feel the way he did. a sinister smile slowly crawled across his face as he walked away.
She looked at the tires on the car, old, warn and as if they hadn’t been driven in years. There was something about them that made her wonder why. The car itself was almost brand new, but these tires were years old. Why would this be? She looked around barn and an older man stumbled out.
The gardener tires of his life. He does not want to nourish planets and give life to flowers, he wishes only to take care of his human fellows. He becomes lonely in the garden, his only companions being the silent green.
the rubber burned and made the nerves in her nasal cavity burn and singe. she recoiled from the horrific fumes exhausting from the tires. the day was blackened with smoke that rose past the peaks of the surrounding mountains and up to the stars above.
jon AND I ARE LIKE THE BEST SET OF TIRES IN THE WORLD WE MIGHT SLOW DOWN AND EVEN TEMPORARILY STOP BUT WE ARE THE EBST COUPLE IN THE WORLD. WE LOVE EACH OTHER . F O R E V E R.
Tires bring me memories. I remember I had to chance two a year ago when I got into a really bad accident. My car flipped twice, no one got hurt, and my family scares me so bad that I flipped the car myself, changed the tires and got ibuprofen from a local pharmacy. Yes, woman power!
Tires screeching across the astroturf, rain pounding on the windshield and car frame. I can’t hear anything but the rush of water and wind as I make the daily 6 a.m. drive to work, an hour away.
The car swerved out of control as the tires blew. That was the thought running through my head. Blurred lights. And the BAM! of the tires popping was all I could think of the next day when the mechanic asked what tires I wanted. I didn’t know. I had never bought tires before. My tires had never exploded like that before. I had never been put in that situation. Until now that is.
the wheels screech, charcoal black lines run across the pavement the people they’re dragging themselves, cold and dead, the rubber burning into their eyes, into their smiles, into their dirt smeared faces. they eat dust with their faces against the concrete, calling, where are the brakes? breaks us all. we’re tired. tires us.
In a world where fuel has run out, there is no need for any cars.
There’s no need for civilization, no catalyst, no fuel, no life. They burned everything they could find. Everything that could be burned, and it choked up the atmosphere. The rubber, and steel, every bit of the car.
Round and rubbery. Gripping gravel, crunching and crackling, rolling us away on our summer vacations. Faces pressed up against the cooling windows. Nostalgia in a car ride. I miss those days, the days I spent with you. Nothing else mattered. The soothing saunter of tires, uncontainable excitement. You were waiting for me.
i want to get in my car and just drive until my tires are bald and im stuck. at least then i won’t be worrying about all the crap in my mind right now.
tires blew and he stopped the car. we had to go back to the place we had departed. and i hated being with him anymore. we had met again for the first time in years and i thought i’d enjoy but i didn’t. i hated him that time already.
I don’t have a car. My experience with tires is pretty limited. I guess I like the way they smell. And the way there are little cilia type things on my bike tires. I like that. Only now they’re gone because I’ve ridden it so much. Maybe I need new tires. Sad day.
The tires skidded along the worn pavement, jolting over the unsteady patches and bumps in the tired road. She sat in the car and cried, trying to drive through the waterworks streaming down her cheeks.
A wheel of a car rolled down the road, a crash had occured- Involving a minivan and a semitruck. People gathered around as an ambulance rolled by with it’s terrifying sound of beeps that frightened anyone. The fear of another’s death- It tore them appart. This was a bad accident… Would they live through it? The family of five? It was unknown to know as they loaded them all up and sped off to the hospital.
Wow, well they generally help take you places. Damn, without them you’d be pretty screwed really. Now I think about it… Of course you could always work. They’d just one of life’s little things to help you on your way…
Cumbersome rubberthing they are, with their ridges like streamlined industry. Thick and yet yielding, giving up layer by later of bloodless flesh to miles, to roads, to distance.
that thing easily tires, the robot observed, tilting its head and watching the creature struggle to get off the ground. all it had done was break a few bits of its infrastructure–not even its targeted weak spots–and it was already struggling to keep its respiratory system circulating. it was so fragile, and so soft. it was easy to kill.
The run tires him out. Each step forces more blood out of his heart and through his already struggling respiratory system. Each step onto the hard sidewalk feels like tremors surging up through his legs and into his pulsing brain.
My driver side tire is being held together with fix a flat. I’m always a little scared when i make a tight turn that it’ll fly off. thats totally reasonable. totally.
It was late.
Too late.
I shouldn’t have been driving.
I should have been paying more attention.
But I wasn’t.
I wasn’t even listening.
At least not until I heard the sound.
The sound of screeching tires.
She stood outside of her car, waiting for the man who blocked her in. She was mad at him, sure, but she also wanted to ask him about his tires; they were bald, and she’d never seen bald tires before. Of course she was going to yell and tell him to go away, but first she had to ask him where he’d been.
And the day goes on and she finds herself wondering why on earth she decided to come.
She’s waiting for something – anything – to happen. She tires of this daily quarrel with him and all she wants is some sort of satisfaction. A compromise, if you will.
Make peace, even?
She contemplates this just as a water balloon falls promptly on her head. She reacts thusly by shrieking curses, earning her glares from the elderly couple sitting adjacent to her.
The rode bumped along as the two newly weds found that the tires they had would not stand up to the journey to the hotel. In an instant the car hit a pot hole and their right tire made a distinct popping noise.
leave their mark on every sharp bend, that turned to an end, for someone.
screeching. winter. muddy. scattered around the backyard. plain. boring. flat. bleak. narrow and wide. tire marks at the crime scene. burning tires used in the village ceremonies at the day of the dead/haloween or whatever it is called.
the last thing i saw, were the piles of tires. They were just sitting there, in my yard, like they had been for the last 19 years. my dad never was one to clean up his messes. maybe one day those tires would be gone. or maybe one day, ill come home and things wouldnt have changed at all.
tires remind me of cars. and cars take you places. but what happens when your tires deflate? it means your stuck. so pump a little air in your tires and youll be back on your way. sometimes all you need is a little uplifting, and you can be rolling away, going places, and onto new things.
The tires left tread marks on the pavement, the screech of brakes and angry shouts from windows open left in their wake. The explosion of a vehicle against a tree, loud and echoing, and set ablaze. The scene was set for the end of the night. All that was need now were actors and actresses to play the part of the sad family and the tragic victim. But the stage remained empty.
Goes round fast and if too fast or too hot will melt and you will have no where to go. If needed a tire can be a swing, from a tree, in the wind that kids who can’t drive will fly in the air on a nice summers day. Just keep the roads clean from nails and the weather cool.
the tires squealed to a stop. jack couldn’t believe his eyes. the man he was looking at gave him a queer feeling. a sense of deja vu mixed with a slight hatred but he didn’t know why either of these strange sensations began to trickle into his mind. the look in the man’s eyes hinted that he knew why jack began to feel the way he did. a sinister smile slowly crawled across his face as he walked away.
She looked at the tires on the car, old, warn and as if they hadn’t been driven in years. There was something about them that made her wonder why. The car itself was almost brand new, but these tires were years old. Why would this be? She looked around barn and an older man stumbled out.
The gardener tires of his life. He does not want to nourish planets and give life to flowers, he wishes only to take care of his human fellows. He becomes lonely in the garden, his only companions being the silent green.
go round and round on the road. make of rubber. black. crease with wear and tear. changing every year. they are round. have a hole in the center.
the tires squealed as the get away driver pulled out of the drive way and left the burning building in its rear view mirror.
the rubber burned and made the nerves in her nasal cavity burn and singe. she recoiled from the horrific fumes exhausting from the tires. the day was blackened with smoke that rose past the peaks of the surrounding mountains and up to the stars above.
when the vehicle moves it moves on tires that are on the rims that are bolted to the axle
Round, portability, propelling me toward what life may bring. Success or failure doesn’t matter. Just momentum.
jon AND I ARE LIKE THE BEST SET OF TIRES IN THE WORLD WE MIGHT SLOW DOWN AND EVEN TEMPORARILY STOP BUT WE ARE THE EBST COUPLE IN THE WORLD. WE LOVE EACH OTHER . F O R E V E R.
Tires bring me memories. I remember I had to chance two a year ago when I got into a really bad accident. My car flipped twice, no one got hurt, and my family scares me so bad that I flipped the car myself, changed the tires and got ibuprofen from a local pharmacy. Yes, woman power!
When the treads wear down and a confirmation from a penny test, my 19×8.5 tires do need replacement.
Tires screeching across the astroturf, rain pounding on the windshield and car frame. I can’t hear anything but the rush of water and wind as I make the daily 6 a.m. drive to work, an hour away.
The car swerved out of control as the tires blew. That was the thought running through my head. Blurred lights. And the BAM! of the tires popping was all I could think of the next day when the mechanic asked what tires I wanted. I didn’t know. I had never bought tires before. My tires had never exploded like that before. I had never been put in that situation. Until now that is.
the wheels screech, charcoal black lines run across the pavement the people they’re dragging themselves, cold and dead, the rubber burning into their eyes, into their smiles, into their dirt smeared faces. they eat dust with their faces against the concrete, calling, where are the brakes? breaks us all. we’re tired. tires us.
In a world where fuel has run out, there is no need for any cars.
There’s no need for civilization, no catalyst, no fuel, no life. They burned everything they could find. Everything that could be burned, and it choked up the atmosphere. The rubber, and steel, every bit of the car.
tires, like a car’s tire, like a car,s that get messed up. No idea how i can screw a car that much. But still, my little car’s now a wrecké
Round and rubbery. Gripping gravel, crunching and crackling, rolling us away on our summer vacations. Faces pressed up against the cooling windows. Nostalgia in a car ride. I miss those days, the days I spent with you. Nothing else mattered. The soothing saunter of tires, uncontainable excitement. You were waiting for me.
i want to get in my car and just drive until my tires are bald and im stuck. at least then i won’t be worrying about all the crap in my mind right now.
tires blew and he stopped the car. we had to go back to the place we had departed. and i hated being with him anymore. we had met again for the first time in years and i thought i’d enjoy but i didn’t. i hated him that time already.
I don’t have a car. My experience with tires is pretty limited. I guess I like the way they smell. And the way there are little cilia type things on my bike tires. I like that. Only now they’re gone because I’ve ridden it so much. Maybe I need new tires. Sad day.
The tires skidded along the worn pavement, jolting over the unsteady patches and bumps in the tired road. She sat in the car and cried, trying to drive through the waterworks streaming down her cheeks.
A wheel of a car rolled down the road, a crash had occured- Involving a minivan and a semitruck. People gathered around as an ambulance rolled by with it’s terrifying sound of beeps that frightened anyone. The fear of another’s death- It tore them appart. This was a bad accident… Would they live through it? The family of five? It was unknown to know as they loaded them all up and sped off to the hospital.
If there is one thing that tires me is having to change flat tires. I really don’t mind changing someone elses flat, but mine…that’s another story.
Wow, well they generally help take you places. Damn, without them you’d be pretty screwed really. Now I think about it… Of course you could always work. They’d just one of life’s little things to help you on your way…
Cumbersome rubberthing they are, with their ridges like streamlined industry. Thick and yet yielding, giving up layer by later of bloodless flesh to miles, to roads, to distance.
And then replaced.
that thing easily tires, the robot observed, tilting its head and watching the creature struggle to get off the ground. all it had done was break a few bits of its infrastructure–not even its targeted weak spots–and it was already struggling to keep its respiratory system circulating. it was so fragile, and so soft. it was easy to kill.
Round, round–why was it always round? A square is still beautiful, though it might not be a functioning shape for such purposes. The tires tire.
The run tires him out. Each step forces more blood out of his heart and through his already struggling respiratory system. Each step onto the hard sidewalk feels like tremors surging up through his legs and into his pulsing brain.
My driver side tire is being held together with fix a flat. I’m always a little scared when i make a tight turn that it’ll fly off. thats totally reasonable. totally.
It was late.
Too late.
I shouldn’t have been driving.
I should have been paying more attention.
But I wasn’t.
I wasn’t even listening.
At least not until I heard the sound.
The sound of screeching tires.
the wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round,
wheels and tires as related so i guess this song and tires are related, too….?
they are also on cars, bikes, trains, but not on boats
She stood outside of her car, waiting for the man who blocked her in. She was mad at him, sure, but she also wanted to ask him about his tires; they were bald, and she’d never seen bald tires before. Of course she was going to yell and tell him to go away, but first she had to ask him where he’d been.
And the day goes on and she finds herself wondering why on earth she decided to come.
She’s waiting for something – anything – to happen. She tires of this daily quarrel with him and all she wants is some sort of satisfaction. A compromise, if you will.
Make peace, even?
She contemplates this just as a water balloon falls promptly on her head. She reacts thusly by shrieking curses, earning her glares from the elderly couple sitting adjacent to her.
Making peace? Ha! As if.