Gas-station customer

Usage examples of motorist.

Nick was shadowed and closed, the dim light from oncoming motorists blurring his sharp nose and thin face.

Pomeroy Gaverdine, the idiot savant son of Elton and Gladys Gaverdine, was practicing his magic act outside the Body Shoppe to amuse the stalled motorists, shaking white doves from billowy silken scarves the color of bright Hawaiian pineapple slices.

For February, it was a cop even beefier than Treen helping a stranded motorist change a tire.

Then, by midday, after the Rocky Mountain sunshine has a chance to put a nice transparent glaze on the ice, the casting room would be booked nonstop with broken bones from pedestrians who had failed to navigate on the ice, and motorists who thought antilock brakes could stop on Teflon.

When one of the new nurses leaned over his chair to adjust the volume on the television set, old Matthew Meadows reached up and squeezed her left breast like an old-time motorist honking the bulb of the horn on his vehicle.

At Rockfish Gap there is a tollbooth manned by rangers where motorists have to pay an entrance fee and thru-hikers have to acquire a backcountry hiking permit.

Ford was a third-rate trainer who by general consensus was as honest and trustworthy as a pickpocket at Aintree, and he trained in a hollow in the Downs at a spot where any passing motorist could glance down into his yard.

Judd slalomed past shocked motorists who had come to a standstill, and disappeared down an alley.

Motorists, pedestrians, vehicular traffic, suburban thoroughfares, snow emergency routes, snow removal equipment, sanitation crews, salt spreaders, accumulations, bridges and tunnels and airports.

Psychic images emanated from him, and with my Twilight Eyes I saw that he had often used his tanklike Mack truck to run unwary motorists off otherwise deserted stretches of Florida highway, ramming or forcing them into canals where they were trapped inside their cars and drowned, or into swamps where the stinking, gluey muck sucked them under.

In the background, Marsha heard honking, the squealing of tires, the dim filtered sound of other motorists shouting at Mel, their voices Dopplering wierdly as they veered and accelerated around him.

For over twenty months the scores of burnt-out hulls piling up in Adirondack chasms were regarded as either suicides or inexplicable doze-behind-the-wheel-type single-car accidents by NNY State Troopers who had to detach their chinstraps to scratch under their big brown hats over the mysterious sleepiness that seemed to afflict Adirondack motorists at what looked to be high-adrenaline mountaintop passes.

The tall bony one had already disappeared, and presumbly he was at the wheel, for the engine roared up even before the door slammed, and the car leapt away with a grind of spinning tires that would have made any normal war-time motorist wince.

Motorists certainly had a more cossetted, looked-after existence than we did.

Soon after arriving there, he left in different clothes than he'd worn out of the hotel-taking a side exit rather than the back door, the only detail not to meet Ricci's prediction to the letter -and was then chauffeured off in the passenger seat of an unmarked sedan that pulled into the crosstown avenue's westbound lanes and clanked along seemingly on two cylinders, an authentic touch that allowed it to blend nicely with the crumpled matchboxes driven by the average motorist in this land of plenty.