Quotes & Sayings About Bumper Cars

You can't change your life. This mode in literature goes against the more middle-brown mode, which is about shaping your destiny, changing it. You can't change it, you just become passive in front of it. Even if we live in a godless universe, there are paths set, there are trajectories, like bumper cars just pulling those trajectories, colliding. — Tommy McCarthy

Arcade:HELLO, Deadpool. Ready for a fun filled day in Murderworld?
Deadpool: Yup. I've got my sunscreen on and I've taken my motion sickness pills so bring on the rides!
Arcade: Oh, I don't think you understand. You're going to die here.
Deadpool: I know! Carnivals always slay me.
Arcade: No. You are going to physically die... as in stop breathing. You will cease to exist.
Deadpool: Riiiiiight... So do you have bumper cars here?
Arcade: Arrrgh!
YES,PEOPLE,THAT'S RIGHT!I DISCOVERED WADE WILSON'S GENIUS!!!I'M BLESSED!!! — Fabian Nicieza

Emma pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Okay, here's a really bad analogy for you. Aidan is like the Indy 500 of Sex, and I need someone who is more - "
"Bumper cars?" Casey asked.
"I was going to say the slow lane, smartass. — Katie Ashley

Nowadays he drove the car into town to fetch his grandfather from habit alone, and though he still considered forty five miles an hour merely cruising speed, he no longer took cold and fiendish pleasure in turning curves on two wheels or in detaching mules from wagons by striking the whiffle-trees with his bumper in passing. — William Faulkner

Five police cars were parked in the yard, two drawn up nose-to-nose behind the car's back bumper, as if the cops expected the big gray sedan to start up by itself, like that old Plymouth in the horror movie, and make a run for it. — Stephen King

Cars and bumper cars are two very different things. NEVER sleep in a bumper car. — Craig Benzine

Across the intersection he could see the crumbling blue-green facade of the Palace Amusements building, the grinning ten-foot-high face on its north wall smiling out on empty streets and vacant lots. The arcade entrances were covered with plywood; broken neon tubing hung from the walls. He thought of the hours he had spent there as a kid, playing pinball, firing the real .22s in the shooting gallery, riding the bumper cars. It hurt to look at it now. — Wallace Stroby

Click. Everyone briefly gathered and posed and smiling at their future selves. Beaches and cathedrals, bumper cars and birthday parties, glasses raised around a dining table. Each picture a little pause between events. No tantrums, no illness, no bad news, all the big stuff happening before and after and in between. The true magic happening only when the lesser magic fails, the ghost daughter who moved during the exposure, her face unreadable but more alive than all her frozen family. Double exposures, as if a little strip of time had been folded back on itself. Scratches and sun flares. Photos torn postdivorce, faces scratched out or Biroed over. The camera telling the truth only when something slips through its silver fingers. — Mark Haddon

Miami drivers have long ago take the simple chore of going from one place to another and turned it into a kind of high-speed, heavily armed game of high-stakes bumper cars. — Jeff Lindsay

Enough Americans saw fit to give president Obama a second term. I don't think there will be many people keeping their Romney/Ryan bumper stickers on their cars. — Henry Rollins

he had a tattoo that I had never seen before. He showed it to me, and then he showed it to the guy who ran the ride, and that guy gave him a big grin. The tattoo was of a red bumper car with yellow lightning bolts coming off the top of the pole. Underneath the car it said "Born to Bump," and this was how much Uncle Lenny loved bumper cars, the way his face got all crinkly around the eyes when he showed me his tattoo, and him wanting to have that picture on his arm forever. — Stevan Allred

Whirlyball is only the most awesome sport on the planet! It's like bumper cars plus lacrosse meets basketball. — St. Vincent

Joe looked out of the window again. He had the feeling that outside the window there should have been hover-cars, men in trilby hats and jet packs, spider-webs of passageways spreading out of the distant tops of the towers. There should have been women in silver suits taking in a show at the tri-vids before indulging in a spot of lunch, the kind that came in three-course pills, great big subservient robots trailing behind them. Instead there was a brown man in overalls collecting rubbish with a long stick outside an adult cinema, and the cars were halted, bumper-to-bumper, beside a traffic light that seemed to be stuck permanently on red. There was a siren in the distance. There was the sound of car horns, a door slamming, someone cursing loudly in American English. — Lavie Tidhar

I remember my visit to the opencast iron ore mines in Keonjhar, Orissa. There was forest there once. And children like these. Now the land is like a raw, red wound. Red dust fills your nostrils and lungs. The air is red, the water is red, the people are red, their lungs and hair are red. All day and all nights trucks rumble through their villages, bumper to bumper, thousands and thousands of trucks, taking ore to Paradip port from where it will go to China. There it will turn into cars and smoke and sudden cities that spring up overnight. Into a 'growth rate' that leaves economists breathless. Into weapons to make war. — Arundhati Roy

A popular bumper sticker post-9/11, and pretty faded these days, proclaims drivers of the cars to be 'Proud to be an American.' It really should say 'Lucky to be an American,' for I doubt very much that the drivers had much say in having been born here, and are not old enough to have participated in the drafting of the Constitution. — Hooman Majd

I had a dream about you. You were on a bike going 70 miles an hour, I could see you approaching my car in the mirror. You were trying to say something so, I jumped on the brakes as hard as I could, I guess I forgot I had tied your bike on my bumper. — Georgia Saratsioti

I'm not all that big on rides. I sort of like bumper cars but I don't really go to Disneyland all that much unless if have nieces and nephews or people to take. — Anjelica Huston

Josie's house was near the edge of town, next to the used car lot. When a person was done with a car, and they didn't need to pawn it, they would park it in the used car lot, open the door, and run as fast they could for the fence, before the used car salesmen could catch them. No one ever came to buy one. The used car salesmen loped between the lines of cars, their hackles raised and their fur on end. They would stroke the hood of a Toyota Sienna, radiant with heat in the desert sun, or poke curiously at the bumper of a Volkswagen Golf, nearly dislodged by potholes and tied on with a few zip ties. The used car salesmen were fast and ravenous, and sometimes a person who meant only to leave their car would leave much more than that. — Joseph Fink