S M Truck Quotes & Sayings

People see me going around constantly flipping off lights and think I'm OCD. No, I'm just turned off by lights that are turned on unnecessarily. It's not about wasted money, it's just about waste. Whenever I see someone throwing out food, I just picture all the energy that went into making that food being lost - the diesel in the farm equipment that picked it, the energy in the fertilizer and the whole fertilizer plant, the truck that brought it to the restaurant, the BTUs used to cook it, and the electricity for the heat lamp at the shitty restaurant. All gone because you couldn't finish your taco salad. — Adam Carolla

I want to get a big, lifted truck with mudflaps on the back. Where I'm from, it's an agricultural area, so that's just how I've been raised. — Virgil Green

If you've got a bag in that SUV, you might as well get it out."
"He's not staying here," Lisa countered.
"I say he is."
Lisa yanked at the coat from within. "You're not the only person who lives here, Robin."
"No, but I'm one-third owner of the house." She motioned Donovan toward his truck. "Consider whatever part of the house he's in as my third."
"Damn it, Robin! I don't want him here."
"I do."
"Why?"
Robin cocked her head to the side as if considering the question. "Because he's got that big, mean, don't-mess-with-me look of a rottweiler on steroids that could be a deterrent to any repercussions from your trip into town today, and because" - she shrugged and a smile touched her lips - "he bothers you in a way I've never seen you bothered. It's interesting. — Sarah McCarty

I'm not sure how long we sit in Josh's truck, holding hands, surrounded by darkness and unspoken regrets. But it's long enough to know that there are no stories or secrets in the world worth holding onto more than his hand. — Katja Millay

I'm sure." I smiled and took a sip of coffee. "I don't want to be stranded on the side of the road. Will that old thing even make it that far?" He looked toward his truck. "That old thing hasn't let me down yet." "So how long will it take to get there?" "'bout six, six and a half hours. That should give me time to get settled into my motel room and practice a little before I go to the studio in the morning." I nodded. "Have you had breakfast?" "I ate at Mrs. Wrigley's when I dropped Amy off." "How about a cup of coffee?" I said. "No thanks. It'll just make me have to stop and pee." I laughed. I stood and stepped to him. "Call me when you get there. Okay?" "I'll call. I promise." He turned to look down at Bo, who sat in the yard looking up at us, stick in mouth, waiting. "I asked Mike to keep an eye on you while I'm gone," he said. "The — Heather Meyer

It upset me that, five days after the hurricane hit down in New Orleans, the President's plan was for a day of prayer. I would have thought a truck of food. A day of prayer. Now, maybe I'm mistaken here and, again, I'm not a scientific expert, but isn't a hurricane officially an act of God? Isn't a day of prayer kind of redundant? Hasn't God already made up his mind on that sort of thing? So we do a day of prayer. The President has his stupid day of prayer. Three days later, Hurricane Rita hits. Somebody must have said something ... something like, is that all you got? — Jon Stewart

moods." "I can do that." "I'll let you go. Maybe if you see the lady - Naomi . . . If you see her, you could tell her I'm sorry about the trouble." "I'll do that. You take it easy." "It's the best way to take it." Chip smiled a little, then climbed into his truck. Since it was close, and he was running a bit late now, Xander got into his own truck and drove — Nora Roberts

My grin tipped up on one side. "I'm sorry. Who asked about the television screens in my truck?"
Her lush lips thinned. "And how long did it take you to pick out the watermelon? Thirty minutes?"
"Twenty-nine," I shot back. "And it's the best fucking watermelon I've ever had. Worth every minute."
A single brow quirked. "You want a medal?"
I leaned over the counter and she met my stare. I wasn't sure what was happening, but it seemed like the air cracked with electricity, heating my skin, quickening my pulse. This couldn't be normal. Maybe I was getting sick. I'd overheated in all of the seventy-eight degrees outside. Yeah, that had to be it.
"I'd love one."
It was so fast, I almost missed it. Her gaze dipped to my mouth before dropping to the island again. "There isn't any more room on your shelf for one more medal."
"I'll just put up another shelf."
"I'm sure you would. — Ashlan Thomas

Later, the talk turned to all the other guys/girls who were currently hot for the two of them. 'There's this total dweeb named Robert who's always calling me, and I feel bad because he's really nice, but I'm totally not interested,' Phoebe told Pablo.

'Believe me, I know what that's like,' Pablo told Phoebe. 'There's this girl at Hunter who's, like, obsessed with me. She's, like, this big fat girl. Ass like a truck. She's always writing me these love letters. Maybe I should fuck her. You know, just to be nice.' (Smile, smile.)

'You're so bad.' (Phoebe shaking her head; Pablo loving it; Phoebe loving it, too. What was more ego-enhancing than making dumb jokes at the expense of ugly women? Phoebe could never decide whom she hated more--other people or herself.) — Lucinda Rosenfeld

Everything is going to be fine."

"I don't want to live in a storm drain, Jackson."

"Not even with me?" He laughed.

"It's not funny, and no, not even with you!"

"You won't, and we won't. Everything will be fine. You are too fucking smart, Em. Hell, I'm too fucking smart, and we work too fucking hard for this shitty life. It won't happen."

"Swear to me." My voice was tiny.

"I swear on your life," he said, and I believed him. "But right now I'm kidnapping you in some loser's truck so I can hide you in my backyard. Let's just hope we can get past this part. I don't think colleges will look too fondly at a juvenile record. — Renee Carlino

I'm not this unusual," she said. "It's just my hair."
She looked at Bobby and she looked at me, with an expression at once disdainful and imploring. She was forty, pregnant, and in love with two men at once. I think what she could not abide was the zaniness of her life. Like many of us, she had grown up expecting romance to bestow dignity and direction.
"Be brave," I told her. Bobby and I stood before her, confused and homeless and lacking a plan, beset by an aching but chaotic love that refused to focus in the conventional way. Traffic roared behind us. A truck honked its hydraulic horn, a monstrous, oceanic sound. Clare shook her head, not in denial but in exasperation. Because she could think of nothing else to do, she began walking again, more slowly, toward the row of trees. — Michael Cunningham

I'm a slave to the culture, so I see an Audi, a Denali, or an Escalade, my neighbor got the four-door Porsche. I have a really nice truck. But it's a Durango and I like frontin'! I like to ride by and show off. — Patrice O'Neal

Know your load. That's rule numero uno in this business, which is why I make them count the penguins out in front of me one at a time. I'm not going to be the schmuck who shows up in Orlando two
birds short of a dinner party ... I know I'm pulling out of Houston with exactly forty-two Gentoo penguins, seventeen Jamaican land iguanas, four tuataras from New Zealand, and a pair of rare, civet-like mammals called linsangs. No more, no less. — Jacob M. Appel

A truck turned the corner and rumbled its way over to our house. I watched it parallel park, then go silent as the lights switched off. The driver's side door opened, and my best friend, Matthew, stepped down. His cowboy boots thudded against the asphalt, then crunched across the gravel that covered our front yard. "Howdy," he said. I — E.M. Tippetts

Bring it home? All right, let's bring it home. If you was hit by a truck and you was lying out there in that gutter dying, and you had time to sing one song, one song that people would remember before you're dirt, one song that would let God know how you felt about your time here on Earth, one song that would sum you up -- you tellin' me that's the song you'd sing? That same Jimmy Davis tune we hear on the radio all day, about your peace within, and how it's real, and how you're gonna shout it? Or... would you sing somethin' different. Somethin' real. Somethin' you felt. Cause I'm tellin' you right now, that's the kind of song people want to hear. That's the kind of song that truly saves people. — Sam Phillips

I think the black suits you more than the brown did." "Oh yeah?" "Brings out your eyes." "Is that what you look for in cowboy hats?" "Maybe. You know, in high school, if a girl got a guy to give her his Stetson, it was a sure thing they were going steady," Zane said, his voice heated and smug. Zane's attempts at flirting were a never-ending source of amusement. And damn him, they were starting to work. "You saying I'd make a great Texan girl?" "I'm saying you look damn good in my hat," Zane growled. He cupped Ty's chin with one hand and leaned over in the shadowed truck cab to kiss him. — Abigail Roux

Imagine every aspect of your life - your job, your spouse, your kids, even your friends - but don't imagine the future you think you're heading for. Instead, imagine the future you desire most. Forget all the expectations everyone else has for you and concentrate on what you truly want. Visualize the road that will take you there. That's your path. That's where you belong in life ... None of the truly great in this world became that way by doing what they felt they had to do. If Isaac Newton had become a farmer like his mother wanted him to, or if Elvis would've listened when he was told to stick to truck driving, we'd know neither man today. We know them, because they had the courage to follow the path they envisioned. — J.M. Darhower

At the college where I teach, I'm surrounded by circus people. We aren't tightrope walkers or acrobats. We don't breathe fire or swallow swords. We're gypsies, moving wherever there's work to be found. Our scrapbooks and photo albums bear witness to our vagabond lives: college years, grad-school years, instructor-mill years, first-job years. In between each stage is a picture of old friends helping to fill a truck with boxes and furniture. We pitch our tents, and that place becomes home for a while. We make families from colleagues and students, lovers and neighbors. And when that place is no longer working, we don't just make do. We move on to the place that's next. No place is home. Every place is home. Home is our stuff. As much as I love the Cumberland Valley at twilight, I probably won't live there forever, and this doesn't really scare me. That's how I know I'm circus people. — Cathy Day

...five minutes later she and Keane walked out to his truck. He set the cat carrier carefully in the backseat like maybe it was a ticking bomb but made her smile when he hesitated and then locked a seatbelt around it.

When he caught her watching, he shrugged. "She's just ornery enough to knock herself off the seat and die and then come back to haunt me, so I'm taking all necessary precautions. — Jill Shalvis

Say again, over," he announced.
"I was saying that I'm going from here on foot," Arkeley told them. "You can follow however you choose but this place was never meant for a military parade."
"He's making fun of your truck," Caxton told Captain Suzie. — David Wellington

It's a good thing he broke up with you because now you're free for when the right man finds you. Your prince is on his way."
"Right. I'm sure he was on his way but a truck hit him. — Jennifer Crusie

As we headed out toward the parking lot, Dan said "Why don't we take the truck? It's less conspicuous."
He had a point. With Fang sitting on the back of my motorcycle in his goggles we were more likely to draw attention than divert it.
YEAH, THAT'S 'CAUSE I'M SMOKIN'! — Parker Blue

It's not right," he repeated, grabbing her again and turning her to face him. "I'm not having it."
"So you said, in clear terms."
"I don't mean that."
"Oh, well, if you've decided you'd like to have sex with me after all, I've changed my mind."
"I haven't decided
" He broke off, staggered. "Changed your mind?"
"I have. Kissing you wasn't altogether what I thought it would be. So you were right and I was wrong." She gave him a deliberately insulting pat on the cheek." And that's the end of it."
"The hell it is." He trapped her against the truck, quickly and firmly enough to have both excitement and annoyance rising inside her. "If I want you, I'll have you, and that's the end of it. — Nora Roberts

It's hard to talk about guns without sounding defensive or blustery. I'm pro-gun the same way I'm pro-potato fork. I use them both to gather food for the year, with the caveat that if you break into my house, I won't be waiting for yo at the top of the stairs with a potato fork. — Michael Perry

Cash. Pay cash, Theodore. It's safest, unless you keep your wallet where someone can pick your pocket."

"I'm going to feel someone sticking their fucking hand in my pocket." He gets in the truck.

I open my door and throw him his wallet as I get inside. "I'm not so sure you would. — Jewel E. Ann

First truck called a 'pick-up' was an International Harvester S in 1921. — L. M. Boyd

Here's a tip. The good guys ask you to get in the truck. The bad guys put a black bag over your head and throw you in the truck. I'm asking. — A.G. Riddle

Oh. Yeah, um ... " I was pretty sure I matched a fire truck. "He's a heavy sleeper."
"I'm sure he is." Dominic stepped back. "If you wish to join your uncle, I'll be waiting outside. You should have time to get ready. Your uncle is a ... heavy sleeper, also."
Whaaaa ... and then it hit me. Ew. Ew. Ew. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I'm really annoyed by the wave of country music that's just a list of stuff. It almost sounds like L.A. people writing country music, because it's just a list of stuff: 'My pickup truck and my cowboy boots and my Levi's jeans and my girlfriend with the short shorts.' It's so boring! — Kathleen Hanna

I'll tell you what's wrong!" he roared, "I'm trying to quit smoking!" Then he strode angrily to the truck, leaving her standing there.
She blinked her eyes, and slowly a smile stretched her lips. She strolled to the truck and got in. "So, are you homicidal or merely as irritable as a wounded buffalo?"
"About halfway in between," he said through clenched teeth.
"Anything I can do to help?"
His eyes were narrow and intense. "It isn't just the cigarettes. Take off your panties and lock your legs around me, and I'll show you. — Linda Howard

DEAR MISS MANNERS:
Should you tell your mother something if it is important when she is talking to company? I am six.
GENTLE READER:
Yes, you should (after saying "Excuse me"). Here are some of the things that are important to tell your mother, even though she is talking to company:
"Mommy, the kitchen is full of smoke."
"Daddy's calling from Tokyo."
"Kristen fell out of her crib and I can't put her back."
"There's a policeman at the door and he says he wants to talk to you."
"I was just reaching for my ball, and the goldfish bowl fell over."
Now, here are some things that are not important, so they can wait until your mother's company has gone home:
"Mommy, I'm tired of playing blocks. What do I do now?"
"The ice-cream truck is coming down the street."
"Can I give Kristen the rest of my applesauce?"
"I can't find my crayons."
"When are we going to have lunch? I'm hungry. — Judith Martin

I would love to hear someone write a song like 'He Stopped Loving Her Today' rather than 'You're hot. I'm hot. We're in a truck.' It's just mind-numbing to me. — Vince Gill

Liking something and wanting to take it for a ride are two very different things', Joslyn sais, climbing out of the truck to stand on the ground. Hutch's eyes sparkled as he came around to face her. 'I'm not touching that one with a ten-foot pole,' he told her. — Linda Lael Miller

I'm loading a dump truck full of mulch for a landscaping job when my cell phone rings. It's hot day and I wipe the sweat off my brow while removing one of my work gloves. It's hard labor, no question, — Faith Sullivan

Fifteen minutes later I'm hunched over the steering wheel of a two-seater that looks like something you'd find in your corn flakes packet. The Smart is insanely cute and compact, does about seventy miles to a gallon, and is the ideal second car for nipping about town but I'm not nipping about town. I'm going flat out at maybe a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour on the autobahn while some joker is shooting at me from behind with a cannon that fires Porsches and Mercedes. Meanwhile, I'm stuck driving something that handles like a turbocharged baby buggy. I've got my fog lights on in a vain attempt to deter the other road users from turning me into a hood ornament, but the jet wash every time another executive panzer overtakes me keeps threatening to roll me right over onto my roof. And that's before you factor in the deranged Serbian truck drivers driven mad with joy by exposure to a motorway that hasn't been cluster-bombed and then resurfaced by the lowest bidder. — Charles Stross

A hand touched my shoulder, shaking me. I was back on the bus. It was dark and warm and I just wanted to sleep, but Chloe kept shaking my shoulder.
"Tori?" she whispered. "We're at a truck stop. It's Derek. He ... he's not feeling good. It could be the Change again. He needs to get off the bus. I'm going with him."
"Mmmph."
"Are you awake? Did you hear what I said?"
"Yeah, yeah. Derek Changing. You going."
She said something else, but I was already drifting back to sleep. Then she was gone.
I bolted upright in the pool house. Chloe had told me they were getting off the bus. Damn it! I'd screwed up. — Kelley Armstrong

I'm very proud of being Italian-American, but people don't realize that the mafia is just this aberration. The real community is built on the working man, the guy who's the cop, the fireman, the truck driver, the bus driver. — Chazz Palminteri

[Ranger] "How's your mental health?" he asked. "I heard about Soder."
[Stephanie] "I'm rattled."
"I have a cure."
Oh, boy.
He put the truck in gear and headed for the exit. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "And that wasn't where I was going. I was going to suggest work."
"I knew that."
He looked over at me and grinned. "You want me bad."
I did. God help me. — Janet Evanovich

A deaf composer's like a cook who's lost his sense of taste. A frog that's lost its webbed feet. A truck driver with his license revoked. That would throw anybody for a loop, don't you think? But Beethoven didn't let it get to him. Sure, he must have been a little depressed at first, but he didn't let misfortune get him down. It was like, Problem? What problem? He composed more than ever and came up with better music than anything he'd ever written. I really admire the guy. Like this Archduke Trio
he was nearly deaf when he wrote it, can you believe it? What I'm trying to say is, it must be tough on you not being able to read, but it's not the end of the world. You might not be able to read, but there are things only you can do. That's what you gotta focus on
your strengths. Like being able to talk with the stone. — Haruki Murakami

When I tour, it's like, well, like a food tour as much as a comedy tour. I try to eat at all the weird places, the obscure barbecue joints, burger places. There are a few spots in L.A. that I'm obsessed with - one of them is the Taco Zone taco truck on Alvarado. There are secret off-menu items that are amazing. — Aziz Ansari

When I'm with you, bells go off in my head like a moving truck that's backing up. — Jodi Picoult

Yes, I call my scooter Jessie, and I don't think that's weird in the slightest."
(...) "Doesn't your truck have a name ?" she asked Blake with mock surprise.
"Sure. Toyota... — M.J. Hearle

I'm not stalking her," I insisted.
"I'm making sure she's safe. Besides, how could you stalk Lori McGillicuddy?
She'd see you and come out to your truck and say, "Hi, I'm Lori. Are you my stalker? It's so neat to meet you! While you're stuck here watching my every move, can I bring you anything? Sweet tea? — Jennifer Echols

On the TV and in the newspapers all we hear and read is 'live your life or the terrorists win' and it sounds great, I'm all for that, except my kids won't ask for a bathroom pass because the faculty facilities are on the first floor of the building and the MPs patrolling the second floor won't go downstairs on their shift - so I've got middle school kids afraid to take a piss because there might be a soldier in the stall next to them carrying a loaded M- 16 - but hell yes, I'm all for 'live your life' and screw the terrorists, and screw all the countries who harbor and support them. I'm on board with that, except I've got these kids who stay home now, because they're scared riding a bus with soldiers carrying guns, knowing that one soldier isn't enough, so there's a military truck full of soldiers with even bigger guns following the bus 'just in case. — Tucker Elliot

Oh, don't be afraid of dreams," a voice said right next to me. I looked over. Somehow, I wasn't surprised to find the homeless guy from the rail yard sitting in the shotgun seat. His jeans were so worn out they were almost white. His coat was ripped, with stuffing coming out. He looked kind of like a teddy bear that had been run over by a truck. "If it weren't for dreams," he said, "I wouldn't know half the things I know about the future. They're better than Olympus tabloids." He cleared his throat, then held up his hands dramatically: "Dreams like a podcast, Downloading truth in my ears. They tell me cool stuff." "Apollo?" I guessed, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad. He put his finger to his lips. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred." "A god named Fred?" "Eh, well ... Zeus insists on certain rules. Hands off, when there's a human quest. Even when something really major is wrong. But nobody messes with my baby sister. Nobody." "Can — Rick Riordan

I'm in my truck talking to Jesus. And you can see a World Series ring on my right pinkie finger. But when I take my sunglasses off a second later, it's gone. It's the whole divine intervention thing. You know Jesus had something to do with them winning. — Denis Leary

Behind the building was a field and when the potpourri scent of her cleaner made me sneeze, I went outside. There were calves there, these sweet things that watched me with less interest than I watched them. There was this raggedy one, sitting in the middle of the field, its mother nearby. I didn't realize it was sick until it tried to get up and it couldn't. It kept trying and it couldn't and then, eventually - it didn't. After a while, a truck drove in. A man and a boy got out, looked it over while its mother stood close. It was dead, the calf. Dead and too heavy to load into the truck bed, so they tied a rope around its neck, tied the other end to the truck and dragged it off the field like that. Its mother watched until it disappeared and when it was out of view, she called for it. Just kept calling for it so long after it was gone. Sometimes I feel something like that, between my mom and me. That I'm the daughter she keeps calling for so long after she's been gone. — Courtney Summers

I turned around and waved my fingers at Taylor. "Don't worry, I'm nothing to be jealous of. I'm just using Holt for sex. He's so good in bed."
Her mouth dropped open.
I climbed in the truck.
Holt was still laughing when he fired up the engine and backed out of the driveway. Since her car was parked right behind his, he had to swerve wide and drive on the lawn before pulling out onto the street and driving away.
Taylor just stood there and watched.
"You're a little feisty, aren't you?" he said, giving me an approving stare.
"I am a redhead. — Cambria Hebert

To try and imagine that I'm another person is always going to be hard - whether I'm writing about a truck driver or someone who is gay, who's trans, who is of a different ethnicity or creed. But it would be boring if I always had to write about myself and my limited viewpoint. — Brian K. Vaughan

What's up? I'm Harris. I'm 33 years young. I have my cousin Jason's truck for two more weeks. I have one testicle-whack a mole accident-and I'm down to clown. — Harris Wittels

Dear You, The odds of your reading this are slim to none. Who would choose uncertainty and vaguely worded warnings over a new life of wealth and luxury? I can only assume that you were put under a massive amount of stress, touched someone's skin, and they were paralyzed. Or blinded. Or lost the ability to speak. Or befouled themselves. Or one of several other effects that I won't outline right now. In any case, I know what it's like the first time it happens. It's like a door opening up inside of you, isn't it? Like you've been hit by a truck. It can't be ignored. So even if you would have preferred to open up the other box (which, by the way, would have had you living out the rest of your life as Jeanne Citeaux), I'm glad you made this choice. Take both suitcases with you and go to the address below. The key in this envelope will get you in, and you should be safe there. It has no connection to me, officially. Open the next envelope when you are established. Try not to be followed. — Daniel O'Malley

There ain't no female equivalent of blue balls. Nothin' even close. It's a uniquely masculine condition, and one I think I'm going to suffer with for the next couple of hours."
"B-but you don't have to-"
He couldn't help a chuckle at the note of frantic frustration in her voice. "Darlin', if you weren't three sheets to the wind, I promise I'd already have you on your back in the bed of this truck."
She glanced over her shoulder. "It doesn't look very comfortable."
"I assure you comfort would be the furthest thing from your mind."
And based on the tightness of his jeans, it sure as hell was the furthest thing from his. — Victoria Vane

I don't do much. I'm too lazy. That's my problem. Hang around my couch, watching the TV. Just too lazy. I realized this the other day, I get hit my a truck tomorrow - a big truck could hit me - paralyze me from the neck down. Wouldn't effect my lifestyle a bit really. — Norm MacDonald