Car Club Quotes & Sayings

When she called for a couple of her friends who'd also
been injured to come over, I quickly handed Declan back to Sydney. "You two stay out of sight," I
whispered. A baby and an ex-Alchemist were too memorable, and that was the last thing we needed
right now.
Sydney complied, hastily getting away from my fan club and me, with Dimitri shadowing her.
"Meet at the car," he called back. — Richelle Mead

We've had the works. Indy's kidnappings and murder. Jet's kidnappings and rape attempt. Roxie's kidnapping and stalking. Car bombs. Grenades. Knife fights. Female wrestling at Chinese restaurants. Mayhem at a haunted house. Gunshots at a strip club. Showdowns at society parties. Now we got a vigilante on our hands. — Kristen Ashley

Are you in the car that's almost caused three accidents on North Vance?" Hannah asked. "Because I'm following you with my lights flashing, and whoever's driving isn't pulling over."
"Let him go," Claire said. "Trust me. You aren't going to get him to stop."
"Oh, God. It's Myrnin, isn't it?"
"Tell that police lady to stop chasing me," Myrnin said, annoyed, from the front seat. "Really, I'm not THAT bad at this. — Rachel Caine

I felt suffocated. And alone. More alone than ever. Every year, I ostentatiously crossed out of my address book any friend who'd made a racist remark, neglected those whose only ambition was a new car and a Club Med vacation, and forgot all those who played the Lottery. I loved fishing and silence. Walking the hills. Drinking cold Cassis, Lagavulin, or Oban late into the night. I didn't talk much. Had opinions about everything. Life and death. Good and evil. I was a film buff. Loved music. I'd stopped reading contemporary novels. More than anything, I loathed half-hearted, spineless people. — Jean-Claude Izzo

The Democrats seem to be basically nicer people, but they have demonstrated time and again that they have the management skills of celery. They're the kind of people who'd stop to help you change a flat, but would somehow manage to set your car on fire. I would be reluctant to entrust them with a Cuisinart, let alone the economy. The Republicans, on the other hand, would know how to fix your tire, but they wouldn't bother to stop because they'd want to be on time for Ugly Pants Night at the country club — Dave Barry

The Black-Eye-of-the-Month Club I was born with water on the brain. Okay, so that's not exactly true. I was actually born with too much cerebral spinal fluid inside my skull. But cerebral spinal fluid is just the doctors' fancy way of saying brain grease. And brain grease works inside the lobes like car grease works inside an engine. It keeps things running smooth and fast. But weirdo me, I was born with too much grease inside my skull, and it got all thick and muddy and disgusting, and it only mucked up the works. My thinking and breathing and living engine slowed down and flooded. My brain was drowning in grease. But — Sherman Alexie

Nooooooooooo!" Screaming the word, Amy and Dan moved as one.
Time slowed down, which, Dan knew from experience, often happened when you were in midair. By the time they leaped onto the hood of Fiske's car (oops, dents), and Dan had ripped off a windshield wiper to use as a weapon (probably not the best idea, but hey, he was improvising), Scarey Harley Dude had turned around.
He strode off in his motorcycle boots, moving swiftly to his bike without seeming to hurry. His helmet back on, sunglasses adjusted, he roared off straight into the road, weaving through the thick traffic like smoke.
Amy's face was squashed against the windshield. Dan held the wiper aloft like a club.
And Evan Tolliver stood on the sidewalk, blinking at them.
Dan waved the windshield wiper at him. "Hey, bro. We didn't want to miss our ride. — Jude Watson

I observed with disillusioned clarity the despicable nonentity of the street; its porches; its window curtains; the drab clothes, the cupidity and complacency of shopping women; and old men taking the air in comforters; the caution of people crossing; the universal determination to go on living, when really, fools and gulls that you are, I said, any slate may fly from a roof, any car may swerve, for there is neither rhyme nor reason when a drunk man staggers about with a club in his hand - that is all. — Virginia Woolf

Come home with me."
This time I did laugh. "No"
"Come to my car."
"No. There is no way I'm leaving this club with you."
He bent and pressed a small, careful kiss to my shoulder before telling me, "But I want to touch you. — Christina Lauren

I like a spirituality with a God that knows how to drive a car, that knows how to take his girl to the dance club, dance all night, have a little drink, kiss the kid when they come back in and go to sleep. God doesn't need a chauffeur
he needs to drive himself. — Jeff Buckley

He parked his car carefully, made sure he'd set all the locks and the alarm. On the steps he kept looking behind him, snapping glances into shadows like he expected this to be a set-up with my gang waiting to roll him. Nervous. But I got this feeling the possibility of danger was all part of it for him. What he wanted was something with an edge to it, something stamped as unmistakable bad.

Welcome to the club, dude. — Matthew Stokoe

When I was 12 years old, I was just horrible. My parents were ashamed to watch my matches. I would play on a court at the local club and they would watch from the balcony. They would scream, 'Be quiet' to me and I would scream back, 'Go and have a drink. Leave me alone.' Then we would drive home in a very quiet car. No one speaking to each other. — Roger Federer

The masculine imagination lives in a state of perpetual revolt against the limitations of human life. In theological terms, one might say that all men, left to themselves, become gnostics. They may swagger like peacocks, but in their heart of hearts they all think sex an indignity and wish they could beget themselves on themselves. Hence the aggressive hostility toward women so manifest in most club-car stories. — W. H. Auden

So many people died last year: the accidental overdose, the car wreck in East Hampton, the surprise illness. People just disappeared. I fall asleep to the music coming from the Abbey, a song from the past, "Hungry Like the Wolf," rising faintly above the leaping chatter of the club, transporting me for one long moment into someone both young and old. Sadness: it's everywhere. — Bret Easton Ellis

Avis Budget, recognising the emerging threat, spent $500m last year buying Zipcar, the world's largest example of a "car club", a form of sharing in which vehicles are parked on the streets and users can rent them, using a swipe-card, by the hour. In theory, the giant hire firms are well-placed to operate the car-club model: conventional rentals peak during the week, whereas club-car use peaks at weekends, so they can achieve high utilisation rates by shifting cars between the two services. Car clubs and other forms of sharing are proving especially attractive to young drivers. That is encouraging the carmakers to return to a business they have dabbled in before (Hertz has been owned by both Ford and GM; and GM once part-owned Avis). — Anonymous

Sure, you can say nuclear power is somewhat less carbon-intensive than burning fossil fuels for energy; beating your children to death with a club will prevent them from getting hit by a car. Ravaging the Earth by one irreparable means is not a sensible way to prevent it from being destroyed by another. There are alternatives. We should choose them and use them. — Rebecca Solnit

Just because something is addictive doesn't mean that you will get addicted to it. But ... if your stomach ties up in knots while you count the seconds waiting for a phone call from that special someone ... if you hear a loud buzzing in your ears when you see a certain person's car (or one just like it) ... if your eyes burn when you hear a random love song or see a couple holding hands ... if you suffer the twin agonies of craving for and withdrawing from a series of unrequited crushes or toxic relationships ... if you always feel like you're clutching at someone's ankle and dragged across the floor as they try to leave the room ... welcome to the club. — Ethlie Ann Vare

I've been driving in the city for years because, as a stand-up in N.Y.C., you can perform at more comedy clubs a night if you have a car. Getting from club to club by subway is too slow at night and too expensive by cab. So, many comics live far out from Manhattan and drive in every night. — Judah Friedlander

Zeb grinned. "You were the only person I know who's done it on an occupied police car."
I glared at him. "If you want to start trading stories, we can start trading stories. As a former member of the Richard Marx Fan Club, you don't want to start this arms race."
Zeb smiled meekly around a rib. Agreed."
"Richard Marx?" Jolene asked.
"He went through an obnoxiously cheerful pop phase. Don't ask. — Molly Harper

It was time for me to go that Thursday night. We'd just watched Citizen Kane--a throwback to my Cinema 190 class at USC--and it was late. And though a soft, cozy bed in one of the guest rooms sounded much more appealing than driving all the way home, I'd never really wanted to get into the habit of sleeping over at Marlboro Man's house. It was the Pretend-I'm-a-Proper-Country-Club-Girl in me, mixed with a healthy dose of fear that Marlboro Man's mother or grandmother would drop by early in the morning to bring Marlboro Man some warm muffins or some such thing and see my car parked in the driveway. Or even worse, come inside the house, and then I'd have to wrestle with whether or not to volunteer that "I slept in a guest room! I slept in a guest room!", which only would have made me look more guilty. Who needs that? I'd told myself, and vowed never to put myself in that predicament. — Ree Drummond

Getting a gay fan base is slow. I think if I were able to reach more gay people they would love it. I can't get the songs in their ears. I love my gay family. I just wish I could reach more of them. I'm in this car going from club to club but they're not gay clubs. — Mary Gauthier

I read, watch television, watch movies, hang out with family. I like my clothes and I have great cars, and I drive those. But for most people, it's like, "That's boring. You don't club? You don't party?" — Samuel L. Jackson

I did many other things before I ever got into the movies. I've been in so many businesses, it's a joke. All of them totally unsuited to me. Selling used cars. Running a club in London. — Sean Connery

Hip-hop to me right now is really easy listening. It's very easy listening, like there's nothing abrasive about it. There's no album that I put in my car that makes me roll down the windows - all the windows - and ride past the club line three times before I get out the car. — Pusha T

Everyday though, I'm just looking for like- I always ask people, What are you listening to? What sounds are good to you? Alot of people are in their car, in the club or on the internet looking and I just don't do any of that. Usually if I'm out and about it's because I have something to do, because I'm like a really big home body. If I'm at home, im watching Nickelodeon cartoons so sometimes I'm out of the loop with the cool music, but for sure I'm predicting that J.Cole is going to be good. — Jhene Aiko

I've made club songs, and I've made radio songs, and I've made the car songs. — T-Pain

Streams of pedestrians dodged them on the sidewalk as they stood with her hand in his, but neither of them noticed. The blaring mixture of car horns, laughter, and music from a nearby club thrashed and echoed around them, but neither of them heard the noise. Simply lost in one another in that moment, nothing else existed. Emily tore her gaze from his ... — Gail McHugh

With tennis, you can go pick up a racket, take a lesson, and understand how much talent and skill it takes to be as good as the top pros. Same with golf: pick up a club. But not many can go out and get in a race car and experience a drive at over 200 miles an hour. — Mario Andretti

I don't like to feel like I'm in a club when I'm in my car and I turn on the radio. Anything that ceases to be a song and just sounds like house music kind of stresses me out. — Taylor Swift

Do you remember the fundraiser buffet for the senator at the Yacht Club?" ... "I'd forgotten something in my car so I was outside when you arrived. I saw you driving too fast with the top down and the music too loud. You were belting out the lyrics like you didn't care who was listening. Then I watched you use the rearview mirror to fix yourself up so you'd look respectable, and when you were all spit-polished and perfect, you gave the mirror the finger."
She remembered. "You asked me out on our first date that night. — Shannon Stacey