View allAll Photos Tagged Terrifying,
Jeremy and Margaret stroll toward our destination Idaho peak, BC Canada, while I quake in fear of tumbling down that impossible incline.
David wore this in the shop window, pretending to be a part of the display, only to jump up and terrify the passerbys!
November 2003. One of a series of self portraits I took in our old apartment's bathroom with the lights out, using a small handheld fluorescent lamp for lighting. This photo was the subject of a drawing I later did, and is a particular favorite of mine.
Wait, the road wasn't poor already? It was poor already, right???
Well, if we decide to not go down this road, we have to go all the way to Edmonton, so might as well give it a try, right?
Nikon D90, 18-200, moving car
damselfly on my finger in ernest thompson seton park. despite my lack of wings and the fact that i possess fewer legs, i resisted the brute's attempts to kill and eat me.
join team atwood and help preserve literacy in toronto while pointing out to rob ford and his sycophantic shitheads at city hall that libraries are important and deserve funding. online petition here, which i signed and added this comment to:
Rob Fraud and the rest of these moronic reactionary fools are prime examples of the reason why we should be investing in more and broader forms of education and not closing libraries. A learned population would not vote for these hateful imbeciles in the first place.
These unusual and off-putting men will apparently perform some sort of erotic dancing for you, in exchange for money.
April 15, 2013. The is the site (the Boston Marathon finish-line) where the first bomb went off, followed by a second bomb about 200 yards down. 3 people were killed and an estimated 264 injured.
This week will forever be sheared into my brain. Allison and I had been invited to join coworkers "at the finish-line for drinks," but by the grace of God didn't go due to our work schedule. It still gives me chills knowing we could have been there. It was terrifying being in the middle of all this, having to go to work while our hospital was on lockdown....walking through security and SWAT teams with huge guns. Our ICU was eerily quite those nights---No families, no visitors, only patients and nurses and docs. Allison and I will also never forget being at work when the gunfight broke out between police and the bombers and that following morning being held inside the hospital until 11am as the whole city of Boston was practically shutdown.
These photos were taken as Allison and I were touring the memorial site. As we walked over to the finish-line and I looked up and saw the boarded-up windows and cracked, blood-stained concrete, I was overwhelmed with emotion and began sobbing. I've never cried so suddenly and uncontrollably--a moment I'll never forget. We just so happen to be here right as this store (Marathon Sports) opened up for the first time after the bombing. What an emotional re-opening! Allison and I went in and each bought a t-shirt of which the proceeds went directly to the Boston One Fund.
They talked and blinked and looked at each other while arguing about things like secret fantasies. The description said that their conversation was generated on the fly by the computer that ran the whole thing. Super creepy, and it caused Arlo to lose his shit.
I don't know. I just don't. This is one of those inexplicable things that happens when you buy a house that was built in 1923: sometimes there are freakish lumpish toilet-shaped things out in plain sight down in the unfinished basement, and no one can explain why.
It scares me. I should turn it into a planter or something.
My grandparents, Gwen and Charlie are on the right in this photo. I have absolutely no idea who the other couple is, but the woman really scares me. This is a classic 70's photo in my view. Taken December, 1975.
John Smyser’s Terrifying Toronado exhibition car, which, terrifyingly enough, is best remembered for hurtling the guardrail at Irwindale Raceway and scaring the bejesus out of the fans in that section.
By all accounts, Smyser was a very good Top Fuel racer. With Nando Haase driving, his 392 Chrysler-powered Radar Wheels entry won the 1965 Hot Rod Magazine Championships in Riverside, Calif., and he and Harry Hibler were runner-up to Tony Nancy at the 1970 March Meet.
The Terrifying Toronado had its street roots in Olds’ peculiar attempt at a muscle car. With gobs of horsepower under the hood and chain-driven front-wheel drive for better traction, it should have been a huge winner, right? After all, while the GTOs and Mustangs were melting the hides trying to glue their tires to the road, the Olds would hook up just fine, thank you very much. The car was so highly praised that it won Motor Trend’s prestigious Car of the Year award in 1966. Smyser’s car was a ’66 – the first year in a production that ran through 1992 – and shared the same engine as the production car, a 425-cid V-8 powerplant.
Noted speed merchant Don Ratican (of Ratican-Jackson-Stearns fame) built the two Olds engines that, while they retained the stock displacement, were pretty racy, packed with Mickey Thompson pistons with Grant rings, a Racer Brown camshaft, heads ported and polished by Valley Head Service, and, naturally, a 6-71 supercharger.
The front engine turned the front 10-inch-wide Casler slicks on Halibrand wheels through the conventional Toronado automatic transmission and differential while the rear-seat-mounted second engine used a dual-disc clutch and a Schiefer aluminum flywheel to funnel power via direct drive to a conventional Olds rear end.
While the wheelbase remained at the stock 119 inches, the track was widened 8 1/2 inches in front and 2 1/2 inches in the rear, presumably for stability and tire clearance. The rear engine sat in a subframe that was easily removable for repairs (maybe they knew something ahead of time?). The car tipped the scales at a portly 4,500 pounds.
Despite its pedigree, the car may have been one of the more ill-conceived and certainly most ill-handling race cars ever built. Or maybe it was just too far ahead of its time.
The Terrifying Toronado was unveiled at the 1966 AHRA Winternationals at Irwindale and made its first run the following week at the ‘Dale. On its fateful lone pass, Smyser lost the handle early, with the car first darting left for the centerline, then hooking up hard and plunging back to the right into and over the Armco. As the famous photos show, it didn’t make it much farther than the guardrail and fell comfortably short – easy for me to say because I wasn’t sitting in the stands – of the chain-link fence.
It ran a few other times that year but never performed well enough to merit much attention. The car’s final outing came about a year after its debut, at the 1967 NHRA Winternationals in Pomona, where the car again ran afoul of the laws of physics. During Saturday qualifying, Smyser made an exhibition pass but again the car got all terrifying on him and busted through the right-side guardrail at speed at three-quarter-track. Fortunately, there were no grandstands that far downtrack. Regardless, it became clear that the Terrifying Toronado was just too terrifying to continue, and the car was retired.
Rarely is the frequency with which I go to one of the local banks. But need pulled me across the bridge over Washington Street into San Diego neighborhood Hillcrest, where I and others looked on gasping at the most terrifying spectacle: A little dog frantically running up Vermont from Robinson and then zigzagging into moving traffic along University Avenue.
Cars braked, pulled to the side, and honked. I was sure the lost pup would get hit, but somehow he (or she) sprinted into the Hub plaza unharmed. I followed along, hoping to corral the animal to safety. The dog ran around the side of Ralph’s Supermarket and disappeared. As I pursued, a woman pulled her car alongside and asked about the animal. Was I following? She was late for an appointment but said she cried seeing the poor thing. I explained my intentions.
But my well-meaning intentions stopped at the chain-link fence, where locked gate blocked me but gaping space beneath let the runt run through. Problem: There, the knoll above presented easy path to SR-163 below and nearly certain death amidst the highway traffic. I couldn’t find the frightened fido and can only hope he (or she) was rescued and returned to the owner(s).
About 10 minutes later, I entered the bank. A gentleman waited in line before me and a pair of tellers processed other transactions. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop one of the interactions but words came catching my attention: “funds unavailable”; “do you have another card”; “Ukraine”.
Turns out the customer couple, accompanied by a little girl and another man and woman of similar age, are Ukrainian—and my guess refugees from the war-torn region. Near as I could tell: They had some trouble accessing funds they wanted to add to a local account. Eventually, the teller helped them resolve whatever electronic boogeyman troubled them.
Having failed to take photos or videos of the wayward dog (my attention turned to assisting rather than documenting), I decided to illustrate both stories with a single stealth shot using Leica Q2 Monochrom. I quietly slid off the lens cap, switched on the camera, turned my hip towards the customers at the counter, and clicked the shutter once. The fixed-lens shooter’s leaf shutter is nearly silent; no one heard.
Later, coincidentally, I came upon the four Ukrainian adults and child as they slowly walked along University towards the Hub. They appeared as lost as the little dog, but obviously not frantic. Locals walk inattentively. Tourists look all around at everything. These newcomers moved uncertainly; perhaps cautiously. I would say shellshocked, and not necessarily from, or even because of, war but of being overwhelmed by circumstances—the shock of giving up, or losing, everything and being thrust into living in another country.