Before long I heard it, the soft pattering of
rain against my windshield, the sheer winds pushing down against my wing, and before I knew it, my tires were loose.
Not exact matches
Strong gusts of wind drive sheets of
rain against the rhythmically moving
windshield wipers as Brenda and I drive from Cambridge to Lexington.
Plum - sized hail pelts the 4C's curvy red body, and then a thick wall of monsoon
rain slams
against the
windshield.
The eye wanders back and forth across this unassuming barrier — the tarnished depths of the left feel alchemical, while the right is full of denial, pushing
against your eyes the way
rain spatters on a car
windshield.
The high - pitched rev of compact car engines comes through clearly
against the sound of screeching tires and
rain on
windshields.