Quotes About Parking

An intellectual is a man who doesn't know how to park a bike.

I legit can not parallel park. This is no joke!

I can parallel park pretty well - I'm a great driver.

I'm deeply impatient. If I can't park directly in front of somewhere, I go home.

I love my bike, a hybrid Matrix Express, which is fast, cheap, easy to park and good exercise.

Most cars are parked at any point in time; my estimate is that I use my car about three percent of the time.

My legs are heavy. They hurt me. I'm in pain So to all the handicap police out there, just be kind. You don't need to know why someone's parked in handicapped - and yeah, just be kind.

I'm a terrible parallel parker.

When elites see a homeless person in the gutter, they assume he's saving a parking place.

I'm not a person who has people tell me things in parking garages.

No one likes a show-off, but if parallel parking was an Olympic sport, I would get gold, no probs.

If you have a little extra parking, I err on the side of getting rid of it in favor of having some more greenery.

I'm against government-subsidized parking and government-mandated parking.

Young, handsome men never flirt with me. I get heat from old dudes that run the parking garages.

I worked at a hospital parking cars and getting folks in and out of the hospital as they would come in for their appointments.

I don't have a worry about women because I keep reading that not only are they better at school, they are now better at parking, better at navigating... we know that women are good at everything.

Before now, I've always taken my mixes out to the car and listened to them in the parking lot. I still do that, but more so now I'm listening to it on the Beat box, and I think people should give it at least a listen and check it out and see what it is.

'Tallica Parking Lot' is, basically, roughly about a four-minute animated short which is centered around the parking lot of Metallica, and that can be anywhere in the world.

In Copenhagen, we all ride bicycles everywhere, partly because it is impossible to park a car, but also because you can cross the city in 20 minutes on a bike.

When I was young, I had minimum wage jobs as a busboy, flipping burgers and parking cars.

The Internet is the most dangerous parking lot imaginable. But if you were crossing a mall parking lot late at night, your entire sense of danger would be heightened. You would stand straight. You'd walk quickly. You'd know where you were going. You would look for light.

Three days later on October 29, 1959, the Pontiac registered in the name of Niles Tignor would be discovered, gas tank near-empty, keys on the floorboards beneath the front seat, in a parking lot close by the Greyhound bus station in Rome, New York.

Just get on any major highway, and eventually it will dead-end in a Disney parking area large enough to have its own climate, populated by large nomadic families who have been trying to find their cars since the Carter administration.

If it was an emotion, it was a totally emotionless one. It was hatred, implacable hatred. It was cold, not like ice is cold, but like a wall is cold. It was impersonal, not like a randomly flung fist in a crowd is impersonal, but like a computer-issued parking summons is impersonal. And it was deadly, again, not like a bullet or a knife is deadly, but like a brick wall across an expressway is deadly.