Quotes About Traffic

In 'Roma,' I wanted to get across the idea that underneath Rome today is ancient Rome. So close. I am always conscious of that, and it thrills me. Imagine being in a traffic jam at the Coliseum! Rome is the most wonderful movie set in the world... As was the case with many of my film ideas, it was inspired by a dream.

Surface streets are probably a hundred to a thousand times more complicated than highways.

I've been pulled over five times for speeding - and talked my way out of every single ticket!

I've never been given a ticket by a police man.

In India, horns function as turn signals, brake lights, hand gestures, prayers.

So many people, Julie thought, stuck in their cars, stuck in their lives, just waiting for someone else to get out of their way.

Americans will put up with anything provided it doesn't block traffic.

If you spend any time in Los Angeles, there's only one topic of conversation.

As people talk, text and browse, telecommunication networks are capturing urban flows in real time and crystallizing them as Googles traffic congestion maps.

Time didn't pass; it tailgated.

I did all kinds of reckless things that look great if you're driving a fast car. I pulled away form traffic lights with a roar, leaving the other drivers staring bitterly after me - that was called burning them up said Daniel. I drove out in front of other cars - Daniel said that was called cutting them up and while we were stuck in a traffic jam, I winked and smiled at attractive men in other cars - Daniel said that was called acting like a brazen trollop.

Beirut traffic is horrendous, public transport is nearly nonexistent, and that it often may make more sense to walk if you're within a half mile of your destination.

They were in Cranston, a down-at-the-heels, mostly white bedroom community below Providence, facing a small brick apartment building wedged against the junction of an expressway and a ninety-degree overpass—the home of John Neri, like them an anonymous floor-worker in a long-gone gray underworld. The air was thrumming with the sounds of endlessly passing traffic.

It was some kind of cosmic switching device, routing the traffic of the stars through unimaginable dimensions of space and time. He was passing through a Grand Central Station of the galaxy.

There was the airfield that had a railway line crossing the main runway, and operated through a kind of nonaggression pact between the Flying Control Tower and the nearest stationmaster. When a train was scheduled to go through, no aircraft were allowed to interfere, and vice versa.

America, like England and Scotland, had never really been a gay nation. Rather it had been heavily and noisily jocular, with a substratum of worry and insecurity, in the image of its patron saint, Lincoln of the rollicking stories and the tragic heart. But at least there had been hearty greetings, man to man; there had been clamorous jazz for dancing, and the lively, slangy catcalls of young people, and the nervous blatting of tremendous traffic.

Not that anyone needs much of an excuse to stay away from Cairo, with its chronic traffic congestion, choking pollution, and legions of touts who have a very well-earned reputation for ripping off all and sundry, but especially Gulf Arabs.

The Left has governed the great cities of the world before. Paris, Marseilles, Madrid, London under Red Ken, have all succumbed to the siren song of the Left at odd moments in the not too distant past. Barcelona was in fact once governed by committees of anarchists. Rome, Milan, and Naples have fallen under the Red Thumb. Stalinist proxies ruled Prague and Warsaw and Budapest and the traffic flow kept moving. The Communists took the garbage out in Moscow.

Patience is something you admire in the driver behind you, but not in one ahead. —Bill McGlashen

Oh, nonsense," snapped Ellery, honking his klaxon. His face convulsed as he leaned out of the car and yelled to a crowding taxicab with the righteous wrath of all motor-maniacs: "What the hell d'ye think you're doing?

Parisians stand to the side of an opening train door, waiting for passengers to exit, rather than elbowing their way on. They form neat lines at the grocery store. I seem to be the only jaywalker in the city. But let one of them behind a steering wheel Ã¢â'¬Â¦ everything changes. Held up in traffic for more than thirty seconds, a Parisian goes berserk and honks until the surrounding buildings shake.

When Armageddon takes place, parking is going to be a major problem.

Horns sounded from the trapped vehicles on the motorway, a despairing chorus.

of cars and great big