Quotes About Driving

Washerwoman, indeed!' he shouted recklessly. 'Ho! ho! I am the Toad, the motor-car snatcher, the prison-breaker, the Toad who always escapes! Sit still, and you shall know what driving really is, for you are in the hands of the famous, the skillful, the entirely fearless Toad!

I got up and left the house and drove out in the country, the stars were all shining and there were the farmlights and yardlights all looking blue in the dark. Everything looking normal, except nothing was normal anymore, everything was at some kind of cliff's edge, and late that night I came back.

And he was athletic in a lean sort of way, his long legs able to keep up with me whenever I coerced him into driving me out to the zoo for their early open hours for runners only; those hills were killers on the calves.

But no matter their metaphysical details, each civilization was part of a world transferring wealth back and forth, back and forth, eventually to the elite groups; these movements of wealth became the driving force of change in human affairs—in other words, of history. Gathered wealth gathered more wealth.

I can't drive. I'm going to teach you, he'd said confidently. At the end of the lesson, he'd declared her the most aggressive and dangerous driver he'd ever encountered. Which meant.. . number one! (Sabine)

Are you calling about the ad? Ad? For the gently used Bentley for sale. It has zero miles! Well, that explained the backward driving. Macrieve & Nix

Maslick's 220-pound frame was wedged behind the wheel. Raindrops were collecting on the windshield, blurring ancient row houses and a street narrow enough that passing required having two wheels on the sidewalk. After days on the move in a city where good driving etiquette meant clipping fewer than three people a week, they'd resigned themselves to the impossibility of staying

I have spent--or wasted--my life around motor racing: driving, promoting, and writing about what Ernest Hemingway once linked with mountain climbing and bull fighting as the only true sports. The rest, he sniffed, are merely games.

Even little old ladies seem to drive like demons in Germany. By comparison, when we were balked by them I felt I could have got out and walked faster.

People and squirrels are very different. Most people will not argue that. But I find that there is one situation in which they're very similar. And that is: when I am driving towards them in my car. Then they're kind of hard to tell apart - especially if the human is kind of hairy.

Learning to shoot firearms to me is a little like driving stick - it seems like a decent skill to have.

If you want to live a happy life, don't teach your wife how to drive a car or a motorcycle.

Then she remembered. The apple. Reaching over to her bag on the passenger seat with her right hand, left hand on the wheel, Grace grasped the apple like a baseball and brought it to her face. Again, she held it under her nose and took in its scent. Wow. Even with the wind blowing around her, the fragrance was full and lush and sweet- though not overtly, like so many of today's commercially bred grocery store apples, but deep, dark, sugared, as the night in a Caribbean cane field.

Like good sex, driving the car was a study in exhilarating restraint and control.

It was starting to rain, big sloppy drops spilling onto the windshield. No thunder yet. His driving was stymied by a clobbering sensation of loss. But what exactly had he lost? Himself as he had been, firm-bodied and flabby-minded? Some clarity of vision he once had possessed? Or was it the old, dormant chamber of his bicameral mind calling out to him, reminding him of the days when rocks and trees and statues had spoken with the voices of gods?

Driving east into the bright sun, he'd been dogged by a creeping sense of déjà vu, but it wasn't until Kath called to Aidan—Help Father with the cooler!—that he recognized the scene from his own childhood. How strange, how disorienting, to find himself in the man's seat, driving, when in his mind he was still the little boy.

Well, it is so difficult right now when you look out on the road and how fast people go and the more and more cars you see out there, for teenagers, you'd think a kid that literally, a few years before, was sitting back in a car seat in the back seat is now behind the wheel.

Jai held out his hands in placation. "Yes, yes, you're very fierce. Hiss, kitten, hiss. And when you are done ruffling your fur, look through the car you are driving. I need a detonator.

I am an excellent driver. In my mind. When nobody's watching. I could drive circles around you. And even East Los Viva. However, there is the small issue that in the human realm, when I am driving an actual vehicle, which is rare, and there is someone in the passenger seat, which is even rarer - I have a tendency to get nervous. And a bit neurotic. Okay, fine, let's just face it. I am a terrible driver.

My father was against the death penalty, and that was hard in the Son of Sam summer when fear was driving the desire for the death penalty.

That night he got up out of bed and put on his maroon polo shirt, which everyone said he looked so handsome in, and went downstairs and drove off in his car, where he did not know. He just drove.

One weekend, I was driving and in the car next to me on the freeway was a guy who looked like a very conservative Nick Frost, with a short haircut, these horn-rimmed glasses, and he was wearing a jacket and tie. I thought, Oh, there's Nick if he were an accountant in the '50s or '60s.

I've never been truly hammered... Never. Not even in college. I was too busy driving or flying away on weekends doing shows around Texas and the country.

When I came to the Pacific Northwest, it was a dream come true for me, you know? I wrestled there every Saturday and then, on the weekends, we drove all around Oregon. The weather was great and I loved it.