I went to a party, Mom, I remembered what you said, You told me not you drink and drive, Mom, So i drank sprit instead I felt really proud inside, Mom, The way you said I would. I didn?t drink and drive, Mom, Even though the others said i should I know i did the right thing, Mom I know you are always right. Now the party is finally ending, Mom, As everyone drives out of sight. As i got into my car, Mom, I knew i would get home in one piece Because of the way you raised me, Mom, So responsible and sweet. I started to drive away, Mom, But as I pulled onto the road The other car didn?t see me, Mom, And it hit me like a load. As I lie here on the pavement, Mom, I hear the police say, The other guy was drunk, Mom, And now I?m the one who will pay. I?m laying here dying, Mom, I wish you would get here soon. How come this happened to me, Mom? My life bursted like a ballon. There is blood all around me, Mom, Most of it is mine. I here the paramedics say, Mom, I?ll be dead in a short time. I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear i didn?t drink It was the others, Mom, The others didn?t think He didn?t know where he was going, Mom, He was parably at the same party as I, the only difference is, Mom He drank and I will die. Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin my whole life. I?m feeling sharp pains now, Mom, Pains just like a knife. The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, I don?t think it?s fair. I?m lying here dying, Mom, While all he can do is stare. Tell my brother not to cry, Mom, Tell daddy to be brave. And when I get to heaven, Mom, Write ?Daddy?s Little Girl? on my grave. Someone should have told him, Mom, Not to drink and drive. If only they have taken the time, Mom I would still be alive. My breath is getting shorter, Mom I?m becoming very scared. Please don?t cry for me, Mom Because when i needed you, you were always there. I have one last question, Mom, before i say good-bye. I didnt ever drink, Mom So why am I do die? This is the end, Mom, I wish I could look you in the eyes, To say these final words, Mom, I love you, and Good-bye.
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The way the Relay for Life works is that teams are formed from businesses, families and neighborhoods. They each raise money in their own independent way. Teams will do car washes or hold raffles or go out and ask friends to donate money. Teams are very innovative.
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Campaign behavior for wives: Always be on time. Do as little talking as humanly possible. Lean back in the parade car so everybody can see the president
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The time I am most powerful and in control of my life is when I drive my car. Whatever lonely feelings I have from the lack of communication with my husband disappear in no time flat. When the windows and the top are open with my favorite jazz station on the radio playing, nothing and nobody can touch me. Then I go home to the same relentless battle. Life can be a pisser
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I don’t care if it rains or freezes long as got my plastic Jesus sitting, on the dashboard of my car. Comes in colors pink and pleasant; glows in the dark cause it’s iridescent; take it with you, when you travel far. Get yourself a pink Madonna dressed in rhinestones; sitting on a pedestal, of abalone shell. God almighty, I aint scary - cause I got the Virgin Mary... Assuring me, that I won’t go to hell.
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And so we take a holiday, a vacation, to gain release from this bondage for a space, to stand back from the rush of things and breathe again. But a holiday is a respite, not a cure. The more we need holidays, the more certain it is that the disease has conquered us and not we it. More and more holidays just to get away from it all is a sure sign of a decaying civilization; it was one of the most obvious marks of the breakdown of the Roman empire. It is a symptom that we haven't learned how to live so as to re-create ourselves in our work instead of being sapped by it. A car should always be charging its battery as it runs. If it simply uses up without putting back, it has to go into dock to be recharged. It is not a sign that we are running particularly well if we are constantly needing to go into dock.
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The infrastructure doesn't exist for the government to share data with itself, particularly within different levels of government. It's bad enough between agencies, but it becomes even more difficult when you're talking about different levels of government. Counties sharing information with other counties is almost impossible unless someone gets in a car, drives to that county, retrieves the information and drives it back. What the private sector does very well is build the infrastructure which allows that information, which is public, to flow freely across jurisdictional and geographical lines. That's the benefit that the private sector has brought to this process.
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Auto racing is boring except when a car is going at least 172 miles per hour upside down.
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The car attachment cost me 100 bucks, so I can play music on my radio.
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'I want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my grandfather, not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car.'
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Get a feel for fur: Slam your fingers in a car door. (on the use of steel traps to capture fur-bearing animals)
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Boy you really missed the boat. I'll make it simple, so's even fuckin you can understand. Papa God growed us up till we could wear long pants; then he licensed his name to dollar bills, left some car keys on the table, and got the fuck outta town'. Water rushes to his eye-holes. 'Dont be lookin up at no sky for help. Look down here, at us twisted dreamers'. He takes hold of my shoulders, spins me around, and punches me towards the mirror on the wall. 'You're the God. Take responsibility. Exercise your power
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'A truck driver was driving along on the freeway. A sign comes up that reads, ' Low Bridge Ahead.' Before he knows it, the bridge is right ahead of him and he gets stuck under the bridge. Cars are backed up for miles. Finally, a police car comes up. The cop gets out of his car and walk s to the truck driver, puts his hands on his hips and says, 'Got stuck, huh?' The truck driver says, 'No, I was delivering this bridgeand ran out of gas.'
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The car as we know it is on the way out. To a large extent, I deplore its passing, for as a basically old-fashioned machine, it enshrines a basically old-fashioned idea: freedom. In terms of pollution, noise and human life, the price of that freedom may be high, but perhaps the car, by the very muddle and confusion it causes, may be holding back the remorseless spread of the regimented, electronic society.
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'A truck driver was driving along on the freeway. A sign comes up that reads, ' Low Bridge Ahead.' Before he knows it, the bridge is right ahead of him and he gets stuck under the bridge. Cars are backed up for miles. Finally, a police car comes up. The cop gets out of his car and walk s to the truck driver, puts his hands on his hips and says, 'Got stuck, huh?' The truck driver says, 'No, I was delivering this bridgeand ran out of gas.'
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We strengthened our leadership position in key segments such as minivans and large cars with our sales in January. Our car business is up 20 percent, and our LX products are up 62 percent. The Dodge Caliber begins production today and gives us a strong entry into the small car segment with an attractive price starting at $13,985. We are now a full-time car player.
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When you read about a car crash in which two or three youngsters are killed, do you pause to dwell on the amount of love and treasure and patience parents poured into bodies no longer suitable for open caskets
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The car has become an item of dress without which we feel uncertain, unclad, and incomplete in the urban compound.
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I graduated pretty quickly. When I was eleven or twelve a close friend of the family got lynched. I guess he was about forty years old, married, and we used to play with his kids. I remember the Saturday night a bunch of white men beat him to death at the Decatur fairgrounds because he sassed back a white woman. They just left him dead on the ground. Everyone in town knew it but never said a word in public. I went down and saw his bloody clothes. They left those clothes on a fence for about a year. Every Negro in town was supposed to get the message from those clothes and I can see those clothes now in my mind's eye.... But nothing was said in public. No sermons in church. No news. No protest. It was as though this man just dissolved except for the bloody clothes.... Just before I went into the Army I began wondering how long I could stand it. I used to watch the Saturday night sport of white men trying to run down a Negro with their car, or white gangs coming through town to beat up a Negro.
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'If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of car payments.'
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Freedom is not an ideal, it is not even a protection, if it means nothing more than freedom to stagnate, to live without dreams, to have no greater aim than a second car and another television set
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I shall always remember you-slyly, touchingly, but with great shouting and confusion-pumping hot water into our sleeping car in the frosty darkness of a December morning in order that we might not know, in order that we might never realize, to how primitive a land we had come.
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The car has become the carapace, the protective and aggressive shell, of urban and suburban man.
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'In Saudi Arabia, a motorist accidentally killed a monkey on a highway in the Khamis Messeit region. Later, while driving home on the same road, he found monkeys still gathered around the dead animal's body. The mourners spotted his car, jumped on it, and smashed his windows!'
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I had a friend who was a clown. When he died, all his friends went to the funeral in one car.
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A car can massage organs which no masseur can reach. It is the one remedy for the disorders of the great sympathetic nervous system.
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Germans are flummoxed by humor, the Swiss have no concept of fun, the Spanish think there is nothing at all ridiculous about eating dinner at midnight, and the Italians should never, ever have been let in on the invention of the motor car.
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I remember: it happened yesterday, or eternities ago. A young Jewish boy discovered the Kingdom of Night. I remember his bewilderment, I remember his anguish. It all happened so fast. The ghetto. The deportation. The sealed cattle car. The fiery altar upon which the history of our people and the future of mankind were meant to be sacrificed. I remember he asked his father: Can this be true? This is the twentieth century, not the Middle Ages. Who would allow such crimes to be committed? How could the world remain silent? And now the boy is turning to me. Tell me, he asks, what have you done with my future, what have you done with your life? And I tell him that I have tried. That I have tried to keep memory alive, that I have tried to fight those who would forget. Because if we forget, we are guilty, we are accomplices. And then I explain to him how na
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I assure you that the training that you get in a midget, in a sprint car and perhaps in a Silver Crown car is really the kind of experience that makes you into a damn good race driver.
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If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of car payments.
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