Inside Car Quotes & Sayings

shortly I should be able to live at peace in my cottage, with all the twenty four hours of the day to myself. Forty-six I am, and never yet had a whole week of leisure. What will 'for ever' feel like, and can I use it all? Please note its address from March onwards - Clouds Hill, Moreton, Dorset - and visit it, sometime, if you still stravage the roads of England in a great car. The cottage has two rooms; one, upstairs, for music (a gramophone and records) and one downstairs for books. There is a bath, in a demi-cupboard. For food one goes a mile, to Bovington (near the Tank Corps Depot) and at sleep-time I take my great sleeping bag, embroidered MEUM, and spread it on what seems the nicest bit of floor. There is a second bag, embroidered TUUM, for guests. The cottage looks simple, outside, and does no hurt to its setting which is twenty miles of broken heath and a river valley filled with rhododendrons run wild. I think everything, inside and outside my place, approaches perfection. — T.E. Lawrence

What are you doing?'Helen put her hand over his to stop him from shifting.
'I'm going inside to talk to your dad. I don't want him to feel like he can't trust me with his daughter.'
'Lucas, I swear to whatever god you think is holy that I will get out of this car and walk to school if you go inside and talk to my dad.'
Lucas smiled and shifted back into first, driving away from her house. 'Who told you the gods were holy? — Josephine Angelini

Some car had hit it after all, because it hadn't had the courage to honor its own correct instinct. And I began to cry because I had this thought about people, that they do this all the time, deny the wise voice inside them telling them the right thing to do because it is different. I remembered once seeing a tea party some little girls had set up outside, mismatched china, decorations of a plucked pansy blossom and a seashell and a shiny penny and a small circle of red berries and a fern, pressed wetly into the wooden table, the damp outline around it a beautiful bonus. They didn't consult the Martha Stewart guide for entertainment and gulp a martini before their guests arrived. They pulled ideas from their hearts and minds about the things that gave them pleasure, and they laid out an offering with loving intent. It was a small Garden of Eden, the occupants making something out of what they saw was theirs. Out of what they truly saw. — Elizabeth Berg

At the reception, he realized that he had left something in the car. He went back, muttering to himself. Lavanya was sitting inside the car with a calm expression on her face. 'You can open it from inside,' he told her. 'I know,' she said, as she struggled out of the vehicle. 'Then why didn't you do it?' he asked angrily. 'Why are you being dramatic?' 'I am being dramatic?' 'I know I forgot you in the car. So?' 'So nothing. It happens. Did I say anything? — Manu Joseph

His scent is intensified in here perfectly, baked by summer, preserved by snow, sealed and pressurized inside glass and metal. I inhale like a professional perfumer. Top notes of mint, bitter coffee, and cotton. Mid notes of black pepper and pine. Base notes of leather and cedar. Luxurious as cashmere. If this is what his car smells like, imagine his bed. Good idea. Imagine his bed. He — Sally Thorne

What you're saying is this spider, with a brain the size of strawberry seed, hid in your car with its face covered to avoid being gassed by insect spray." He stood in front of me, laughing, peering down into my eyes. "And then, when the fumes dispersed, he set about plotting revenge. Once he'd come up with his plan, he exited your car and, even though he didn't see which direction you went in, he found the front door because he knew you were inside this house." Biting down on his bottom lip, Ric smirked. "Don't you think, if he was as smart as all that, he'd have worn a mask before he ran out from under visor so you couldn't recognise him on your doormat? — Zathyn Priest

You've got to get out of the car, take the keys around, open up the trunk lid, hand the keys to the Lord Jesus, get inside the trunk, slam the lid down, whisper through the keyhole, 'Lord look, fill'r up with anything you want and you drive, it's up to you from now on.' — Paris Reidhead

Because of the city's fragmentary, far-flung floor plan, accessible almost exclusively by car, there is no collective sense of community, no overarching sense of "we." ... It's a city of transplants ... Everyone moves to LA with plans not to stay. But then we stay. Because somewhere along the way, this Garden of Forking Freeways burrows itself inside our hardened, from-elsewhere hearts, and slowly, we begin to love the place we claimed to hate. Los Angeles is such a misunderstood city... It's a place that's impossible not to ridicule until you...fully appreciate all its endearing inconsistencies. It is ugly, and it is also beautiful. It is fast; it is slow. It is sexy, and it is also smart. — Lilibet Snellings

I am not the person who is singing
I am the silent one inside ...
I am not my house, my car, my songs
They are only stops along my way ... — Paula Cole

If I'm in the car after a bad game, I may think about ways I need to improve. But the second I reach home, the game's over. Work doesn't come inside with me. Same thing in reverse - I don't bring my personal life into the ballpark. Learning to keep it all separate has made life easier. — Matt Kemp

When I'm around you all I can think about is touching you. Tasting you. Having you. I want to push you against that car, pull off your jeans, your T-shirt. Spread you naked against the metal. Stroke you till you're so wet you're dripping. Then push my cock inside you. Make you come so hard you scream. — Jackie Ashenden

My car has wyvern giblets on the inside and fairy douche on the outside, I deserve the big shower! — S.L.J. Shortt

I know you've been through hell, but you didn't let it eat you up inside." He pauses, hugs me a little closer. "And I know you make me think the hell I've been through was worth it ... if it's what made me recognize heaven when it jumped into my car. — Stacey Jay

He knew he could never jingle change in his pocket or park his car like a confident adult, he was the Adrian he had always been, casting a guilty look over a furtive shoulder, living in eternal dread of a grown-up striding forward to clip his ear.
But there again, when he sipped at the whiskey his eyes failed to water and his throat forgot to burn. The body shamelessly welcomed what once it would have rejected. At breakfast he demanded not Ricicles and chocolate spread, but coffee and unbuttered toast. And if the coffee was sugared he leapt from it like a colt from an electric fence. He ate the crust and left the filling, guzzled the olives and spurned the cherries. Yet inside he remained the same Adrian who fought down the urge to stand and shout 'Bullocks' during church services, smelt his own farts and wasted hours skimming through National Geographic on the off-chance of seeing a few naked bodies. — Stephen Fry

Did you have sex in that alley?" "Inside the SUV." Beth unwound her arms and sat back. She lifted a hand in the air. "High five." Vanni just stared at her blankly. "Bucket list, remember? Sex in a car. — Laurann Dohner

Making a Fist
For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,
I felt the life sliding out of me,
a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.
I was seven, I lay in the car
watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern
past the glass.
My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.
"How do you know if you are going to die?"
I begged my mother.
We had been traveling for days.
With strange confidence she answered,
"When you can no longer make a fist."
Years later I smile to think of that journey,
the borders we must cross separately,
stamped with our unanswerable woes.
I who did not die, who am still living,
still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,
clenching and opening one small hand. — Naomi Shihab Nye

Please, don't be good. Please," I begged.
Rush let out a rugged breath, "Shit, baby. Stop it. I'm going to explode. I'll give you your release but when I finally bury myself inside you for the first time you won't be sprawled in the back of my car. You'll be in my bed. — Abbi Glines

Recently, I was in Africa monitoring elections when right on the street, this guy started beating a woman. I got out of my car, pulled her inside and drove her to the hospital. But after the doctors treated her, she was too afraid to press charges. I've seen this over and over in America, too. — Barbara Lee

The wind yanked at my hair, and despite being nearly shot more than once in the same night, I laughed. "I love this car." Aren turned my way, and the smile on his face reached all the way inside of me to touch places I thought had died years ago. A dash of fear mingled with the adrenaline. I could love a lot more than his car. - Sasha from Hunter's Moon — Lisa Kessler

It was a very special feeling to wake up in the morning, all alone in a flat, it was as though emptiness were not only around me but also inside me. Until I started at the gymnas I had always woken to a house where Mom and Dad were already up and on their way to work with all that entailed, cigarette smoke, coffee drinking, listening to the radio, eating breakfast, and car engines warming up outside in the dark. This was something else, and I loved it. — Karl Ove Knausgard

The car, is the other connection to the outside world, but to be precise it connects the inhabitants to the inside of the car, not to the outside world per se. The outside world is only an element for moving through, as submarines move through water. — James Howard Kunstler

We'll take the Aventador," Fox said. "It hugs the road like you do my cock when I'm inside you." "Fox." She pushed at one muscled arm, to his wicked grin. "I cannot believe you just compared me to a car!" "No, I compared the car to you," he pointed out, one hand on the steering wheel, the big SUV moving so smoothly it appeared an extension of his body. "She gives me a sweet ride, but nothing comes close to my Molly. — Nalini Singh

Carpool,my foot. But it's still not a date,MacGregor. What we'll call this is a ... a civilized transit agreement. That sounds bureaucratic enough.I like your car," she added, patting the hood of his Mercedes. "Very sedate."
Alan opened the trunk and set the box inside. He glanced back up at Shelby as he closed it. "You have an interesting way of insulting someone."
She laughed,that free smoke-edged laugh as she went to him. "Dammit, Alan, I like you." Throwing her arms around his neck, she gave him a friendly hug that sent jolts of need careening through him. "I really like you," she added, tilting back her head with a smile that lit her whole face with a sense of fun. "I could probably have said that to a dozen other men who'd never have realized I was insulting them."
"So." His hands settled at her hips. "I get points for perception. — Nora Roberts

So, what's the story?"
"No story. Just a nightmare."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, heavy compression lines in his cartilage, severe bruising on his kidneys, liver and lower intestines. Fracture marks on his collar bone, tibia, radius, humerus, scapular, femur and every single one of his ribs have been broken. Don't even get me started on the concussive damage to his skull and brain tissue. Twenty-three percent of this boys body is scared for life. And yet, every organ is functioning normally and his neurological activity is above average. He's eighteen years old and he weights about two bills but remove the scar tissue and he'd weigh about a buck-ten. All in all, I say he lived inside a hydraulic car press, went through the Napoleonic wars and was on board the Hindenburg when it went down in flame and yet he's okay ... this boy just refuses to die. — S.L.J. Shortt

Since I was kid, what's drawn me to racing is the feeling inside of me, the passion I have for the sport, the feeling I have while competing and doing what I do in a car, on a bike, whatever it's been. — Jimmie Johnson

Once, Gansey had overhead his father saying, Why in the world did he even want that car? and his mother replying, Oh, I know why. One day he would find an opportunity to bring up that conversation with her, because he wanted to know why she thought he had bought it. Analyzing what motivated him to put up with the Camaro made Gansey feel unsettled, but he knew it had something to do with how sitting in this perfectly restored Peugeot made him feel. A car was a wrapper for its contents, he thought, and if he looked on the inside like any of the cars in this garage looked on the outside, he couldn't live with himself. On the outside, he knew he looked a lot like his father. On the inside, he sort of wished he looked more like the Camaro. Which was to say, more like Adam. — Maggie Stiefvater

Rule number one that all girls must learn. If you're told to lie down on the floor during a robbery or to
step inside a waiting car during a kidnapping, you're not doing yourself any favors by cooperating. You're
essentially handing the bastards a loaded gun and giving them express permission to shoot you in the head. — J.A. Saare

I don't see the kids and the car seats and all the ways we've changed. What I see is a girl who was wild about a boy, and a bot who loved that girl right back. And it makes me happy to know they're still in there, still inside us, like Russian dolls. — Shauna Niequist

Tell me this," Pudge would often ask me, as he sat and read about the exorbitant funeral of a rival. "If he was the guy with all the power, then how come he's riding in the lead car, stuffed inside a coffin? — Lorenzo Carcaterra

You know, I was pretty comfortable where I was at. We had cars that could win races (at Roush). I know (Joe Gibbs Racing is) expecting me to perform and do my job. Before this year, I can't remember the last time I've ever been nervous at all inside of a race car. — Matt Kenseth

She parked and got out of the car, feeling the wind sweep upward over her, lifting the hem of her jacket, ruffling her hair. She walked to the edge of the cliff and for a long time, stood frozen and stared as though mesmerized by the swirling, white-veined swells that gathered like great fists drawn back for a blow, then smashed themselves against the rocks below, exploding into a spray of diamonds. Some of the spray was so fine that a series of rainbows were thrown up, fleeting and blurred, one after another. The pounding of the sea made a strange and compelling music, driving her to surrender to the feelings inside her. — Susan Wiggs

Swift opened his eyes. "Your fingers are shaking."
Max nodded. "Adrenaline. It's pretty exciting seeing your friend's car get shot full of holes. Especially with your friend sitting inside."
Swift nodded too. "From my side too. — Josh Lanyon

You can be living in a big house, driving a nice car, going on exotic vacations and still be empty inside, crippled with fear and dread. — Rob Bell

I have finally mastered what to do with the second tennis ball. Having small hands, I was becoming terribly self-conscious about keeping it in a can in the car while I served the first one. I noted some women tucked the second ball just inside the elastic leg of their tennis panties. I tried, but found the space already occupied by a leg. Now, I simply drop the second ball down my cleavage, giving me a chest that often stuns my opponent throughout an entire set. — Erma Bombeck

Is this how you get dates? You drag women into your car, lock them inside and don't let them out till they've agreed to go out with you? — Ann Bruce

Don't be overwhelmed by a man's fancy car, fancy house or fancy clothes. It's really the person inside the care, house and clothes that matters. By the same token, don't be underwhelmed by a less-than-fancy car, house or clohtes. Women can earn the car and house themselves, and you can always buy your man nice clothes, too. — Sumiko Tan

Abruptly he started the car and put it in gear and drove away, trying not to look back. And of course he did, and of course the porch was empty. They had gone back inside. It was as if the Overlook had swallowed them. — Stephen King

'Colors' is pretty good. It takes you inside the cop car bit. I like reality myself. I like reality-based kind of movies. — David Ayer

I envision my mind as a plot of grass full of sheep surrounded by a perimeter of electric fence. If I'm not constantly vigilant and aware of my thoughts, the electric fence shuts off, the sheep jump out, and my panic gets away from me. The chance for an attack is especially bad just before bed or when I'm distracted or lost in thought in the car, causing me to slap myself in the face as hard as I can or bite the inside of my upper arm. If I can feel the pain, then I am still alive and can begin to focus on rounding up the sheep again. See? This makes perfect sense in my head. — Brittany Gibbons

In an automobile, if you think about the navigation system - of all the cars in the world, four out of five cars in the world if they have a navigation system have something from Nokia inside that car - the data, the platform, something. So we play a very strong role there. — Stephen Elop

Can you go back inside and have a drink while you wait? I don't like the idea of you sitting outside in your car by yourself. You are by yourself, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm alone. But I'll be fine. I just - "
"Olivia, I really don't like it. Can't you just go back inside? Consider it a favor."
When he puts it like that ... "Okay. I'll go back inside. Just call me when you get here. — M. Leighton

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

I'm absolutely terrified that people can get into cars. It's like the car is a face, and the headlight is eyes, and when you open the car door it's like you're climbing into the ears. (I cannot) be inside a giant rolling robot head. — Thom Yorke

Alone in the car with my social life all before and behind me, I was suspended in the beautiful solitude of the open road, in a kind of introspection that only outdoor space generates, for inside and outside are more intertwined than the usual distinctions allow. The emotion stirred by the landscape is piercing, a joy close to pain when the blue is deepest on the horizon or the clouds are doing those spectacular fleeting things so much easier to recall than to describe. — Rebecca Solnit

I need to call Matt and let him know I'm okay," I said. Finn held the passenger door open while I got inside. As soon as he got in the driver's seat, I turned to him. "Well? Can I call him?"
"You really want to?" Finn asked as he started the car.
"Yes, of course I do! Why is that so suprising? — Amanda Hocking

I could hear my watch whenever the car stopped, but not often they were already eating Who would play a Eating the business of eating inside of you space too space and time confused Stomach saying noon brain saying eat o clock All right I wonder what time it is what of it. — William Faulkner

Tamara looked all around the inside of the car. "Yeah, I see I need to come to your church," Tamara said. "Because what I'm hearing at my church only puts me to sleep. Sleep is good for dreaming, but I'd prefer to see my dreams become reality. I want to touch my dreams. I want to sit down in the seat of my dreams. I definitely see that I need more of the right tools in life to do it right. — Vanessa Davis Griggs

At the bakery it's just me. It's a small place. Just me and the raspberry horns and the tourtiere pies and my cigarette going in the ashtray near the black sink. Every once in a while a car passes through the dark street outside the storefont windows, but that's pretty much all I see of people while I'm there, until the end of my shift at eight when Monica shows up to open the store for the day. A solid twelve hours by myself, nothing but the radio to keep me company, and I like it just fine, being alone. It's even better in the winter, during a storm, when the snow piles up outside and no cars come by at all. Inside the bakery it's warm and there's plenty to keep my hands busy. Times like that, for all I can tell I'm the only person left on earth. I could go on making pies and watching the snow pile up until the end of time, so long as there was enough coffee on hand. I don't need company like some people seem to. — Ron Currie Jr.

The car stopped. Everybody walked in a short procession up to the chapel of the Crematorium, where a clergyman with very bright blue yes was waiting. That was a dream, too, but a painful dream, because she was obsessed with the feeling that she was so close to seeing the thing that was behind all this talking and posturing, and that the talking and posturing were there to prevent her from seeing it. Now it's time to get up; now it's time to kneel down; now it's time to stand up.
But all the time she stood, knelt, and listened she was tortured because her brain was making a huge effort to grapple with nothingness. And the effort hurt; yet it was almost successful. In another minute she would know. And then a dam inside her head burst, and she leant her head on her arms and sobbed. — Jean Rhys

With his dripping basket and flip-flapped up the hill. Then a car turned into Cannery Row and Doc drove up to the front of the laboratory. His eyes were red rimmed with fatigue. He moved slowly with tiredness. When the car had stopped, he sat still for a moment to let the road jumps get out of his nerves. Then he climbed out of the car. At his step on the stairs, the rattlesnakes ran out their tongues and listened with their waving forked tongues. The rats scampered madly about the cages. Doc climbed the stairs. He looked in wonder at the sagging door and at the broken window. The weariness seemed to go out of him. He stepped quickly inside. Then he went quickly from room to room, stepping around the broken glass. He bent down — John Steinbeck

Things in themselves have no life in them. A car can't comfort or encourage you. A house means nothing if there's no life and love inside. — Joyce Meyer

Because he was closer to her here than in the office, and less shy than in the car, he could see clearly now what he'd only been able to guess at before: the texture of her skin was what had made him want to pull off her clothes the moment he'd seen her. It was like the surface of a flawless apricot or nectarine; it glowed; it needed to be taken and eaten. A small edge of white lace could be glimpsed just inside the V-neck of her dress, moving with each breath and quivering when she laughed, and that frivolous, unconscious touch of flirtation made him heavy with lust. — Richard Yates

But we were friends all our childhood, a voice said inside her; and that other voice answered coldly, Friends are whom you choose, not the people forced on you by circumstances. And yet she was nearly crying with misery and humiliation and friendlessness, in the hot back seat of the car, while grains of sunlight danced through the fractured roof, and stung her flesh like needles. — Doris Lessing

Lamb-skin condoms must send a mixed message to guys who like to fuck sheep. And I wonder what the answer would be if you were to talk to a sheep about whether they would rather become a car-seat cover or a condom? If the sheep answers "condom," I think we can assume that sheep is gay. Sure you're sliding into a lady part, but you're going to have some guy coming inside you. — Adam Carolla

they should invent a car that stays cool inside when it is parked — R.L. Stine

The room inside is definitely the biggest plus of the car. Your head is not anywhere near the (roll) bars, like it's sitting against the bars in the other (current) cars. — Kevin Harvick

She tasted the day he lost his first job. She tasted the morning he had awakened, still drunk, in his car, in the middle of a cornfield, and, terrified, had sworn off the bottle for ever. She knee his real name. She remembered the name that had once been tattooed on his arm and knew why it could be there no longer. She tasted the color of his eyes from the inside, and shivered at the nightmare he had in which he was forced to carry spiny fish in his mouth, and from which he woke, choking, night after night. She savored the hungers in food and fiction, and discovered a dark sky when he was a small boy and he had stared up at the stars and wondered at their vastness and immensity, that even he had forgotten. — Neil Gaiman

I silently wished to be a car-I was big enough to be one. I wanted to imagine myself purring every time Devin got inside me and took me for a ride. Unfortunately, all I could see was me drunk with chocolate smeared across my face singing the Transformer's intro "Robots in Disguise!" into Shannon's broken box fan. — Tabatha Vargo

There are moments when you're stepping out of a really nice car on to a red carpet, and you feel inside like, 'This is quite nice,' but I'm never whisked off my feet. — Stephen Graham

Uncle Joe used to spend a fair amount of time in the loony bin. My family wasn't bothered by his regular trips to and from 'the facility'
they'd shrug and say, There goes Joe, and they'd put him in the car and take him in. One day Uncle Frank ... was driving Uncle Joe to the crazy place. When they got there, Joe asked Frank to drop him off at the door while Frank went and parked the car. Frank didn't think much of it, and dropped him off.
Joe went inside, smiled at the nurse, and said, 'Hi. I'm Frank Hornbacher. I'm here to drop off Joe. He likes to park the car, so I let him do that. He'll be right in.' The nurses nodded knowingly. The real Frank walked in. The nurse took his arm and guided him away, murmuring the way nurses always do, while Frank hollered in protest, insisting that he was Frank, not Joe. Joe, quite pleased with himself, gave Frank a wave and left. — Marya Hornbacher

It's hard to do a camera inside of a car. Non-Stop would have been impossible. Usually modern lenses you can focus up to the lens pretty much, but anamorphic you can't. You need like three feet. — Jaume Collet-Serra

Inside the music like this, she understood many things. She understood that Simon was a disappointed man if he needed, at this age, to tell her he had pitied her for years. She understood that as he drove his car back down the coast toward Boston, toward his wife with whom he had raised three children, that something in him would be satisfied to have witnessed her the way he had tonight, and she understood that this form of comfort was true for many people, as it made Malcolm feel better to call Walter Dalton a pathetic fairy, but it was thin milk, this form of nourishment; it could not change that you had wanted to be a concert pianist and ended up a real estate lawyer, that you had married a woman and stayed married to her for thirty years, when she did not ever find you lovely in bed. — Elizabeth Strout

It made sense, Amanda decided. People thrived on the misfortunes of others: her mother was the perfect example of that. Can't see a car accident, she thought, for wanting to climb inside and join in. — Danika Stone

You know the Model of your Car. You know just what its powers are. You treat it with a deal of care, Nor tax it more than it will bear. But as to self - that's different. Your mechanism may be bent, Your carbureter gone to grass, Your engine just a rusty mass. Your wheels may wobble and your cogs Be handed over to the dogs, And on you skip, and skid, and slide, Without a thought of things inside. What fools indeed we mortals are To lavish care upon a Car, With ne'er a bit of time to see About our own machinery! — John Kendrick Bangs

Inside your head you hear
a phone ringing, and when you open your eyes you're washing up
in a stranger's bathroom,
standing by the window in a yellow towel, only twenty minutes away
from the dirtiest thing you know.
All the rooms of the castle except this one, says someone, and suddenly
darkness,
suddenly only darkness.
In the living room, in the broken yard,
in the back of the car as the lights go by. In the airport
bathroom's gurgle and flush, bathed in a pharmacy of
unnatural light,
my hands looking weird, my face weird, my feet too far away. — Richard Siken

I heard the car door shut and then Fabian's voice. "You won't believe what I found around the edge of your property," the ghost announced. "A cave with prehistoric painting inside it!" I rolled my eyes. That was the best tactic Fabian could come up with? This was a vampire he was trying to stall, not a paleontologist. — Jeaniene Frost

I love driving cars, looking at them, cleaning and washing and shining them. I clean 'em inside and outside. I'm very touchy about cars. I don't want anybody leaning on them or closing the door too hard, know what I mean? — Scott Baio

Several witnesses describe seeing an altercation in the car between Mr. Brown and Officer Wilson. It was described as wrestling, tug-of-war. Several other witnesses described Mr. Brown as punching Officer Wilson while Mr. Brown was partially inside the vehicle. — Robert P. McCulloch

What would happen is that every idiot in this town who owns a gun, which is basically every idiot in this town, would grab his gun, jump into his car, or somebody else's car, and lay rubber for I-95. Inside of ten minutes the city is gridlocked, and what happens next makes IwoJima look like a maypole dance. This whole town turns into the end of a Stephen King novel. — Dave Barry

I was slightly thankful when Mom finally came out and unlocked the car. It was warm and toasty inside and it smelt like home. There was not the slightest smell of something that didn't belong home. — Erica Sehyun Song

When you get into your car, shut the door and be there for just half a minute. Breathe, feel the energy inside your body, look around at the sky, the trees. The mind might tell you, 'I don't have time.' But that's the mind talking to you. Even the busiest person has time for 30 seconds of space. — Eckhart Tolle

God's more in control than we are. Obviously you still take all the precautions and safety measures inside your car. — Matt Kenseth

And then it hits me. I'm not anxious, I'm lonely. And I'm lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be so lonely because it seems catastrophic - seeing the car just as it hits you. But then all of a sudden, that feeling is gone and I'm blank. So it's like a door quickly opened, just a crack, to show me what a mess I was inside. — Augusten Burroughs

Three times we stopped dead. The first found us in Lovegrove High Street, and we were immediately surrounded by a crowd of youths, who put their heads inside the car and insincerely pretended that we were in a position to sell them roasted chestnuts. — Rebecca West

It was hard to stay angry when I felt so sad. I would rather have felt angry, but instead, all I could do was sob. Even though people had been coming over all day, the house seemed so lonely that I couldn't stand it.
The room grew somewhat dimmer. I didn't move as it grew dimmer still. Then, with a start, I hurried outside and ran to the alley in back of our house. Through a break between the buildings, I saw that the sun hung low over the horizon. I watched it until it started to hide between two trees in the distance. Then I climbed on a car and watched until only half of the sun was visible, and then a quarter, and then I felt a huge sickening panic inside of me and ran as hard as I could to a ladder I saw down the alley. I rushed up the ladder and climbed on the roof of somebody's garage. I saw the sun again, a quarter of it, and then a slice, and then it disappeared, the last time ever that the sun would set on a day my sister had lived. — Cynthia Kadohata

It's better than I imagined
and I imagined it a lot. Tucked away in a corner at school. On the track during gym class. In his car. On the street by my house. In a fancy restaurant. During dance class. In the cafeteria. Everywhere, really. But not a single one of those fantasies measured up to the actual real life thing
trapped inside a magic box. — Cassie Mae

Brynne, I'm looking because I can't keep my eyes off you. I want to be in you. I want to fuck you so badly I can hardly drive the damn car right now. I want to come inside you and then do it again. I want your sweet cunt wrapped around my cock while you scream my name because I made you come. I want to keep you with me all fucking night long so I can take you over and over again and you don't remember anything else but me. — Raine Miller

As a singer, you can't hear what's coming out of your throat; you're only hearing it from the inside, so you need a trusted person who knows how your voice works. It's like a car. You take it to the same mechanic because they know it inside out, and every time you get it back, it works fantastic. — Stephen Costello

Come with me to the Pacific Design Center."
"Why?"
"Because I need help picking out a new couch," he said, peering up at her uncertainly. "Isn't that what friends do?"
"Okay."
"Okay." "Should we go?"
Taylor went back inside her apartment and grabbed her keys. As she followed Jason out to his car, she tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey - can I drive the Aston Martin?"
"No."
"But isn't that what friends do?"
"No."
"My, my, you're awfully grumpy today ... Is something wrong?"
"Buckle up, sweetheart," he told her. "This ain't no PT Cruiser. — Julie James

I pull his mouth to mine and I kiss him. I kiss him for always having the perfect thing to say. I kiss him for always being there for me. I kiss him for supporting whatever decision I think I might need to make. I kiss him for being so patient with me while I figure everything out. I kiss him because I can't think of anything better than climbing back inside that car with him and talking about everything we'll do when we get to Hawaii. - Sky — Colleen Hoover

Sometimes I'd see my father, walking past my building on his way to another nowhere. I could have given him a key, offered a piece of my floor. A futon. A bed. But I never did. If I let him inside I would become him, the line between us would blur, my own slow-motion car wreck would speed up. The slogan on the side of a moving company truck read TOGETHER WE ARE GOING PLACES
modified by a vandal or a disgruntled employee to read TOGETHER WE ARE GOING DOWN. If I went to the drowning man the drowning man would pull me under. I couldn't be his life raft. — Nick Flynn

I was so mad when I was younger," she said. "And then you grow up and think you're not that girl anymore. The girl you were at fifteen, sixteen. Angry and nasty. Hungry for love - "
" - I guess some girls are like that," Katie said, cooly.
"But the thing is, you're always that girl," Hailey said, stepping out of the car. "She never goes away. She's inside you all the time. That girl is forever. — Megan Abbott

The killjoys initiated automobile crash standards so rigorous that we can't buy a car that hasn't been dropped from the top of a phone pole with our whole family strapped inside. — P. J. O'Rourke

There's a cave, we go inside of ourselves because we want to know more, and we turn this one corner and we go, Oh my god - I didn't know that was in here. We can never go back to the way we were. It's like a horrible car accident - you're never the same after that. It's something that you'll think about every day for the rest of your life. — Wayne Coyne

It was indeed a long wait, well over two hours. I sat in the car and listened to the radio
and tried to picture, bite by bite, what it was like to eat a medianochesandwich: the
crackle of the bread crust, socrisp and toasty it scratches the inside of your mouth as you
bite down. Then the first taste of mustard, followed by the soothing cheese and the salt of
the meat. Next bite - a piece of pickle. Chew it all up; let the flavors mingle. Swallow.
Take a big sip of Iron Beer (pronounced Ee-roan Bay-er, and it's a soda). Sigh. Sheer
bliss. I would rather eat than do anything else except play with the Passenger. It's a true
miracle of genetics that I am not fat. — Jeff Lindsay

There are times when the vehicle is in the ready mode, there are no indications externally that the vehicle can move and yet if someone accidentally hits the pedal, say when someone's inside, the car will move. — Jim Carroll

So he stopped at the first of them, a frigid hothouse whose front tipped forward over the street in defiance of gravity, taste, and ordinance; inside, the tender daytime flowers could be seen huddling in family groups beneath a constant, unseen sun, and behind them was the hermetic door to the dark Cactus Room where the shy nocturnal plants, genus cereus, could bloom in privacy at any hour. Vivien, once out of the car, appeared less constrained. She did not have that stiffness so many have on first entering bars, that air of waiting stubbornly for alcohol to loosen them, which so often presages their manner when it comes' time for bed. She was already excited when the martinis came. — Douglas Woolf

I love people and psychology. As a writer, I'm not so interested in Fred getting from the living room to the car. I want to go inside Fred's soul and play there. — Dorianne Laux

Eventually a guy behind the hog farmer broke ranks, and stepped forward. A pragmatist, clearly. He walked to the car and lifted the hatchback and put the bags inside, one by one, first Keever's, then Chang's. — Lee Child

Take any two-year-old through a car wash and their skulls are blown. FLAPS! FOAM! ROLLING THINGS! It's the closest they'll ever get to being inside a working spaceship. — Drew Magary

I'm a situational writer. You give me a situation, like a writer gets in a car crash, breaks his leg, is kidnapped by his number-one fan, and is kept in a cabin and forced to write a book
everything else springs from there. You really don't have to work once you've had the idea. All you have to do is kind of take dictation from something inside. (from Parade Magazine interview, 5/26/13) — Stephen King

Every day, on the roads of Delhi, some chauffeur is driving an empty car with a black suitcase sitting on the backseat. Inside that suitcase is a million, two million rupees; more money than that chauffeur will see in his lifetime. If he took the money he could go to America, Australia, anywhere, and start a new life. He could go inside the five-star hotels he has dreamed about all his life and only seen from the outside. He could take his family to Goa, to England. Yet he takes that black suitcase where his master wants. He puts it down where he is meant to, and never touches a rupee. Why?
Because Indians are the world's most honest people, like the prime minister's booklet will inform you? No. It's because 99.9 percent of us are caught in the Rooster Coop just like those poor guys in the poultry market. — Aravind Adiga

This is where the runaway train started down the track. I was inside the dining car enjoying a plate of cookies or something. I didn't feel it then. But the train had been boarded on Saturday night when we drank the bat. And this was the beginning of its journey. Right here. — A.S. King

We also fought about everything
like real sisters. We fought about money, bedrooms, whose car to take. Everyone of these fights was actually about something else
usually abandonment. I wanted to be first on her list and she wanted to be first on mine. I wanted all her attention, all her love, all her care. I wanted her to be my mommy, my daddy, my sister. She wanted the same from me. She wanted to be fed, cared for, nurtured without limit. She wanted backrubs, poems, pastas, and to be left alone when she needed to be left alone. She wanted to come before my writing, my child, my man. And I wanted no less from her.
She was sick at first, so I took care of her. Then I was jealous of the attention and she took care of me. We had gone down into the primal cave of our friendship. we had felt loved enough to rage and fight, to show the inside of our naked throats and our bared fags, and the friendship took another leap toward intimacy. Without rage, intimacy can't be. — Erica Jong

The literary experience extends impression into discourse. It flowers to thought with nouns, verbs, objects. It thinks. Film implodes discourse, it deliterates thought, it shrinks it to the compacted meaning of the preverbal impression or intuition or understanding. You receive what you see, you don't have to think it out ... Fiction goes everywhere, inside, outside, it stops, it goes, its action can be mental. Nor is it time-driven. Film is time-driven, it never ruminates, it shows the outside of life, it shows behavior. It tends to the simplest moral reasoning. Films out of Hollywood are linear. The narrative simplification of complex morally consequential reality is always the drift of a film inspired by a book. Novels can do anything in the dark horrors of consciousness. Films do close-ups, car drive-ups, places, chases and explosions. — E.L. Doctorow

If you love home - and even if you don't - there is nothing quite as cozy, as comfortable, as delightful, as that first week back. That week, even the things that would irritate you - the alarm waahing from some car at three in the morning; the pigeons who come to clutter and cluck on the windowsill behind your bed when you're trying to sleep in - seem instead reminders of your own permanence, of how life, your life, will always graciously allow you to step back inside of it, no matter how far you have gone away from it or how long you have left it. — Hanya Yanagihara

He doesn't move.

Please, I beg him inwardly.

Please go up to bed.

It's hard enough to look at his face each day and not feel heartbreak. I can't be close to him right now. I'm afraid I'll give in and kiss him again. The way his hard body had aligned so perfectly with mine is burned in my consciousness. I'll be trying not to remember that for weeks.

I wait, and I ache.

Finally the door clicks open. I hear him exit the car. When the door slams shut, I feel it like a sledgehammer to the heart.

Don't look, I coach myself.

But my self-control isn't infinite. His fair hair glints under the streetlight as his long legs eat up the walkway in just a few paces. Seeing him walk away from me splinters something inside me. — Sarina Bowen

His knees locked and he pushed his weight against Mr. Jones's hand. It wasn't the dim light coming through the skylights or the giant steel fan that waited to chop them up or the smell of urine or the dank-dungeon cells that lined both sides of the aisle that made Danny step back. It was a sense of panic, of fear, that saturated the atmosphere like an electrical current, tingling in his bowels. The boys ahead of him didn't seize up, but they stutter-stepped. Like the end of a ship's plank was dead ahead. Danny felt this type of fear spreading through his groin like cold fingers once before. A memory emerged in the soupy sea of memories inside his head. He remembered getting pulled out of the back seat of a car with his hands cuffed behind his back by someone. But then like everything he tried to remember, there were gaps. — Tony Bertauski

Raining. Oh, brother, a scratch on the fender. Damn rabbi on his unicycle.
Wait a minute, where are my car keys? Could have sworn I left them in this pocket. No, just some loose change and ticket stubs from the all-black version of Elaine Stritch' s one-woman show.
Did I check my desk? Better go back inside. What's in the top drawer here? Hmm. Envelopes, my paper clips, a loaded revolver in case the tenant in 2A begins yodelling again. — Woody Allen

I have no words for you, Rook Walsh." "Try," I whisper back as I stare hungrily into his eyes. He brings his palms to my face and tilts my chin. "I could describe what you look like, but that's not what I see. You are so much more than a body inside a dress, Rook. You fit me. When I saw you crouching in that stairwell last week I felt like I knew you. You stopped me dead in my tracks, you wiped my mind. And I reached out to touch you that day because I couldn't resist. I needed to do it and I plan on touching you all night, on the way there in the car, through dinner, as we walk around the zoo and do whatever the hell it is they do at a nighttime fundraiser, and all the way home. — J.A. Huss