driving Quotes

“Their Midwest driving skills were no match for a Miami Cuban woman with good medical insurance driving a car she didn’t care about.”

“What do you want to learn to drive for anyway?” she said. “Don’t you go around Chicago in taxicabs and trolleys?” I couldn’t explain it to Grandma. I was getting too old to be a boy, and driving meant you were a man. Something like that. ”

“My idea of heaven still is to drive the gravel farm roads of Umbria and Tuscany, very pleasantly lost.”

“That was the only tape we had, so we played it constantly, over and over, as a kind of demented counterpoint to the radio. And also to maintain our rhythm on the road. A constant speed is good for gas mileage- and for some reason that seemed important at the time. Indeed. On a trip like this one must be careful about gas consumption. Avoid those quick bursts of acceleration that drag blood to the back of the brain.”

“To seek freedom is the only driving force I know. Freedom to fly off into that infinity out there. Freedom to dissolve; to lift off; to be like the flame of a candle, which, in spite of being up against the light of a billion stars, remains intact, because it never pretended to be more than what it is: a mere candle.”

“They walked all night from near to far. I would never walk. I would take a car.”

“If we needed urgent help, why not get in Einar’s car and drive to the doctor’s? Einar always had his car when we went camping. That’s how we got there. Why stand around waving at a nonexistent troop on a hill that wasn’t high enough and probably misspelling words in the process (‘UNGENT/SEND HEAP/I’M BADLY CURT’) when we could hop into Einar’s Studebaker?”

“It’s not knowing that drives you mad.”

“This is the man who drove them home- the boy, the bear, and the dog with a bone.”

″‘Not so fast! You’re driving too fast!’ said Mrs. Mitty. ‘What are you driving so fast for?‘”

“Pluck had a little red tow truck. He drove it all over town looking for somewhere to live.”

“They drove under stars on a winding route that crossed and re-crossed the river. Farm hamlets lay black in sleep; copses of pine shaped the skyline. And always, against the drone of the van’s engine as it laboured through the gears, came the roar of the Maipo, amplified by the walls of the canyon.”