I have no mouth, so I cannot chew. I have no nose, so I cannot smell. Yet teeth I bear through tangled hair; I part and smooth it well.

Ichabod’s horseman, This wouldn’t appease. A hard-headed helper, Shell of shell, to your seed. It’s made to absorb, Cracks it tries to impede. You’ll be this at the end, If you keep up bad deeds.

I border the blue or glide without strain, the same simple word for land or for lane.

Add an OR to the end, and I’m like a detective. Add Gadget after that - go, go, get Penny to save the day. Left alone, I look at things to find clues; another word for the work done.

A path that's not for wandering feet, where rubber meets concrete. The chariot's resting place, between street and front door space.