Quotes About Car

I didn't have any money to buy a car, so when I got my license I did not have a car at first.

We couldn't get the car back until well after the end of the race and we had very little time for repairs.

I feel excited about my new home in F1. I am looking forward to working here and of course I am especially looking forward to driving the car for the first time.

I lived in Los Angeles for a long time, and in a lot of ways, I felt like I lived in my car.

It's probably 10% luck and 45-45 on the driver and the car. If you have a bad car, you're done.

A good driver can make up for bad equipment way more than a good car could make up for a bad driver.

I was the only kid in Manhattan I knew whose parents had a car.

As we drove into Harrow-gate, the atmosphere in the car was heavy with Miss Winter's oppressive silence.

That night, after the movie, driving my father's car along the country roads, I began to wonder how real the landscape truly was, and how much of a dream is a dream.

There was another pause. We waited to learn if the dialogue was over. Then we set to eating again. We traded unwanted parts in silence, stuck our hands in cartoons of rippled fries. Wilder liked the soft white fries and people picked these out and gave them to him. Denise distributed ketchup in little watery pouches. The interior of the car smelled of grease and licked flesh. We traded parts and gnawed.

Forcing functions are a form of physical constraint: situations in which the actions are constrained so that failure at one stage prevents the next step from happening. Starting a car has a forcing function associated with it—the driver must have some physical object that signifies permission to use the car. In

The long drive to work gave me time to apply my makeup in the car and for my hair to air dry, providing it wasn't humid enough to give me the frizzies.

And then something happened. It was a fragment of time, a breath of time. It was like being in a car in pouring rain and driving under an overpass, and for just that second there is a profound, powerful sense of reprieve- the utter silence of non-rain.

I prefer to sing in the shower vs. the car. The shower is just steam, you know, its just you, and nature, and no clothing. You know, there's nothing separating you. It's just you, and the voice - you, and the water.

Every time I copy something, I can draw it for the rest of my life. But research is so painful - I mean just opening up a magazine looking for a picture of a car or looking out the window looking for a car is just hard!

I was really into classifieds for awhile. I'm a big negotiator. My father owned a car dealership when I was younger... it's just in my blood.

There were other things, though. There were always more details trailing any good story. Like tin cans on the back bumper of a newlywed's car. Rattles and pings and wonderful small moments spinning in the wake of a great life.

A car's not the right place for showing off to a girl--the bed's the place for that. The consequences of a mistake there are more upsetting, but less tragic.

A Ford Terino jerked to a stop, inches from her knees. Before the driver could honk, Jimena tapped the hood of the car. The man glanced up and her eyes warned him, You're out of your neighborhood. He understood and settled back patiently as if it were normal to stop at a green light in Los Angeles. Once Jimena had crossed the street, the car screeched away.

Stanton parked the car. He got out, walked around the car, and opened her door. He put his hands around her waist and lifted her out. Only then did she realize how incredibly strong he was. He kissed her then, a surprise, but so gentle and sweet, she let him. She wondered if Persephone had fallen in love with Hades when he abducted her and took her to live in the underworld.

The soldiers leaned into the windows and said that they were requisitioning the car for the Revolution.

And suddenly I was in the car with my father. I heard rain splashing up over the tires and my father, humming. He was so alive, so beloved, that the incomprehensibility of his suicide grieved me all over again. By then, my father had been dead for two decades, and such a pure memory of him had never come back to me.

What a new sense of security Homer had felt in that moment of laughter with friends in the enclosed dark of the moving car, and what a sense of freedom the car itself gave to him—its seemingly effortless journeying was a wonder to Homer Wells, for whom the idea of motion (not to mention the sense of change) was accomplished only rarely and only with enormous strife.

Psycho? The woman's senile. We had to stop at about thirty gas stations on the way over here. Finally I got tired of getting out of the car and showing her which was the Men's and which was the Women's, so I let her pick them herself. I worked out a system. The law of averages. I laid money on her and she came out about fifty-fifty.