Power wheels ride on toys. Stuffed toys making.

Power Wheels Ride On Toys

power wheels ride on toys
    power wheels
  • Power Wheels is a brand of battery-powered ride-on toy cars for kids ages 12 months to seven years old.
  • (Power wheel) A built in mechanical device to recover a portion of the power consumed by a constant speed centrifugal compressor when operating at reduced capacity or reduced pressure rise, or both. (060)
    ride on
  • Ride On is the third album released by former Guns N' Roses guitarist Izzy Stradlin. It also features Duff McKagan who is also an ex-member of Guns N' Roses
  • Ride On is the primary public transportation system in Montgomery County, Maryland. Ride On serves Montgomery County as well as the community of Langley Park in Prince George's County. Ride On also serves the Takoma Metro station, and Sibley Memorial Hospital in Washington, D.C.
  • Ride On is an album by Irish folk singer Christy Moore, released in 1984, and is widely regarded as one of his best. It contains one of his most popular songs, the title track.
  • (toy) dally: behave carelessly or indifferently; "Play about with a young girl's affection"
  • An object for a child to play with, typically a model or miniature replica of something
  • An object, esp. a gadget or machine, regarded as providing amusement for an adult
  • (toy) plaything: an artifact designed to be played with
  • A person treated by another as a source of pleasure or amusement rather than with due seriousness
  • (toy) a nonfunctional replica of something else (frequently used as a modifier); "a toy stove"

a tantalizing trek through the land of lean beef
a tantalizing trek through the land of lean beef
This past weekend marked our first vacation together in some time, a real, get in the car and go somewhere, just the two of us, no dogs, no friends, no family, just us vacation. It seemed when I flew out here to visit we did this every time, but since moving out here reality has set in, of course, and these three day weekends mustn't go to waste! We had an idea to get away to San Francisco for a while now, I had never been. Finally, a three day weekend, I'm working, can afford to board the dogs, and we can each leave work early Friday to start our drive. Friday wasn't much in the way of scenery, speeding down I-5, we hit a bit of traffic at 5 in Grant's Pass. This is notable because Grant's Pass is a hellhole, named "Pass" I believe because you should pass right through it and keep going on your way to somewhere better. The traffic wasn't holiday revelers, oh no. It was a genuine emergency! As we rolled through the now single lane of traffic at 15 mph we saw what the hold up was. There on the side of the road, talking to the cops and emergency crews, was a family of four and their panting dog. We shall call them THE BIG FAMILY. Even their dog was BIG. Their camper was BIG. The trailer behind the camper was equally BIG, loaded with BIG TOYS, like Power Wheels and a paddle boat. This family was large, and going on a large adventure. It began with flames! Sure as hell, their camper was flambe. There were the firefighters, shooting a huge jet of water through the cab of the camper, the dash and headliner melted and blackened. We could only imagine the excitement as Mr. Big flicked his unfiltered Pall Mall out the window, only to have it fly back in and cause a fire. Mrs. Big was never, ever going to let him hear the end of the vacation he ruined. I pray for them that they're not still in Grant's Pass. I'm not sure what would be worse, being married to either of the Bigs, or being stuck in Grant's Pass with a crispy camper. This chapter could only be more amusing if their camper had been named something exciting, like "The Lightning Bolt" or something equally as funny and indicative of heat. We left the Big Family and their camper behind and sped our way to Weed, California, for an obligatory stop at the rest area for our first tourist photo of the trip, Mt. Shasta in the background, Weed Rest Stop sign clearly visible, bemused smirks on our faces. I sit Patrick on rock next to a construction cone, and just as he asks if I'm going to be in the shot with him, he is literally attacked. Patrick was viciously attacked by a tiny little black bird. And he ran like a bitch. Alfred Hitchcock would be proud, a black bird circling and pecking, scratching at Patrick's back, Patrick waving his arms over his head, running in circles, yelping. The bird, it is worth noting, went after no one BUT Patrick. Not me, not the other three people at the rest stop, just Patrick. The bird even flew at Patrick as he tried to go to the bathrooms, dive bombing him all the way. That bird really hated him. In fact, in one of the frames I shot of the rest stop, Patrick isn't in the frame at all, he had to run for his life before the self timer could go off. In one of the photos you can see a bird perched in the corner, on top of the sign, raring to go, the next frame both Patrick and the bird are gone. I nearly wet my pants laughing at the episode. We made it to Williams, CA, where we had a cheap room at a dingy Motel 6, but the real humor was at the filthy Burger King on the highway we stopped at. You know it's bad when the gas station, BK, and tourist info are all in the same building. But we were hungry, it was 10 pm, needed gas, and the King beckoned. When we went in the door there was a dog barking inside, a heavily prison-tattooed man in shorts and sandals with an unbuttoned shirt and an alarming amount of taut, over tanned skin stretched across his belly button, scraggly hair wildly waving in all directions like the Nick Nolte mug shot, he was staring at us as we ordered. We couldn't sit at one of the booths, as I believe it was ranch sauce all over the seat. I hope it was ranch sauce. We sat at a booth next to a nice looking couple of guys, clearly as freaked out as we were. The one was picking up every item with a napkin, like he had OCD. It was obvious we were all wondering where the hell we were. Things only got stranger, as a perfectly able bodied young man strolled in, placed an order, and went back outside where he hopped on...his motorized handicap scooter. The kind fat people ride at Wal-Mart. The kind you see old people whipping around on in their apartment in commercials, the kind "medicaide may pay for!" Captain Able Body probably pushed his mother out of it to take it for a spin down to the local BK. He sped off into the California night, cell phone pinned to his ear, bag of food in the little basket, presumably to go home to a night of listening to rap and plan
79 Ducati 900 darmah
79 Ducati 900 darmah
Loved and hated this toy! I crashed it so many times racing up and down the NSW and Tassy coast roads, I had the engine cases plugged with some extra thick aluminium blobs, the seventies equivalent to crash knobs I suppose. The uber-soft pirelli silver dot tyres used to last only a few weeks sometimes, it was just so much fun when it was running right, and would sit on 180 all day. One of the early digital ignition and mag wheel bikes of the time, and with alan heads everwhere compared to the japanese bike cheese heads, it was a pleasure to work on. Unfortunate that it required so much work though. The digital ignition wire seals always leaked regardless of seal replacement or how much silicone was lashed about, I had to reshim first gear as it was a known problem after a few thousand kays, and the valve guides and seats were made out of butter and usually required some work at shim grinding time. The mag (they actually had magnesium content) wheels were recalled as they exploded. Before the recall, you were always looking for the telltale signs of pin holes in the wheels on each pre-ride check until the recall finally happened. And of course, the big-ends, that tell-tale deep knocking sound that you keep telling yourself is something else because it is such as hassle. The addition of 40mm delorto carbs, some mild porting, some pod filters and handle bar clipons made this one of the best and most fun bikes I have ever owned. Later on I added a hailwood full fairing to it, but it was more bother than it was worth. I even bought another almost twenty years later, and had heaps of fun passing gixxers and the like around Oran Park raceway on ride days. Oran was such a goat track that a bike like this with eighteen inch wheels and solid handling could more than make up for its lack of power of more modern bikes.

power wheels ride on toys
See also:
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