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Roadtrip Quotes

Browse 35 quotes about Roadtrip.

Roadtrip Quotes

“5. Thou must set the scene with tunes. Road trips aren't the only time a decent playlist is required. How we consume music has changed radically over the years. Dinner at my grandparents' house was set to silence, at my parents' the radio, and at my friends' something much more personal: a playlist put together for the occasion with songs that are meaningful to us. Supper is on hold until the right music starts to play, even if it means holding a knife and fork and slavering over the smell of dinner until the person in charge of the tunes has done their job.”

“Take care of your car in the garage, and the car will take care of you on the road.”

“The landscape started hard, sharp black mountains over my shoulder and thirsty young saguaros hugging patchy dirt. Gradually it let go, began to green on me a little. I crossed a river, watched succulents get fatter and farmland start to wave, hoarding the blue above and the few clouds it had to spare. I knew the route somehow, knew the curves, the directions, the exact way to go. I knew it the way you know the stars are still up in the sky even though white sun obscures them. Everything that had happened before Lukeville and Sonoita began to liquify in memory, feeling more like fiction than personal history. Funerals and pain, girlfriends and mothers, roommates and priests all tumble away with the desert behind me. The only thing that's real is the road I see ahead. The only person in my life is the man sitting silently beside me. The place I'm going is the only place I've ever wanted to go.”

“Asking someone else to drive your sports car is like asking someone else to kiss your girlfriend.”

“Among all the machines, motorcar is my favorite machine.”

“I am so obsessed with the cars that sometimes I feel like my heart is not a muscle, it's an engine.”

“I love the wheels, I mean steering wheel.”

“I am emotional about engines, if you hurt my car, you hurt my heart.”

“All of a sudden we were out of the lot and on the highway next to the mountains, flying. I put my hand out the window, and then I put my head out. I felt my hair blow behind me and the air rush into me, and I forgot for a moment to worry about how I was supposed to be. Because I was perfect right then. Everything was. And Sky was a perfect driver. Not scary. Just steady. And fast. I wanted the music to last forever.”

“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.”

“I’m a spiritual mutt. The road is my church. It was on the road that I discovered the landscape god. My journals tell of the perpetual midnight mass held on the highways and byways of the American West. Every so often, climbing out of the driver’s seat with a journal and a camera, seeking the sacrament of the wild silence found in the unsullied sanctuaries of intact wilderness.”

“I read aloud from my phone. “‘A cappuccino with low-quality milk … the only good things is the kindness of the bartenders…’” “Are you reading the online reviews?” “Of course. This is a good one. ‘What is gruesome is the disorganization and rudeness of the staff.’ And here’s another. ‘Business lunch with pork sandwich, dirty toilets, and hallucinating prices.’” Elisa let out a laugh. “Internet translations have made Italians sound like lunatics.” “Or like a nation with a head injury. Here’s my favorite one: ‘The collation leaves it to be desired and the girl was alone and in trouble to manage everything. Sandwich was inexplicable.”

“How long do you think it will take us to cross?” Jefferson asks. “According to the Major, about three and a half days,” I say, looking at the sky. “It’s Monday afternoon. Maybe we’ll be across by Thursday at sunrise.” He whistles. “I was happier before I knew that.” “Think of it this way: Once we cross, we’re in California. Give or take a mountain range or two.” Therese says, “Then we’re practically almost there.”

“I lost my virginity to Grant Connelly," a slender brunette declared wistfully, twirling a lock of hair... "What? Am I the only one?" "Nope." A different brunette, this one in a push-up bra, raised her hand. "Not the virginity part, but, well, you know." Two others raised their hands slowly, looking at each other. "Spring break?" one asked. "New Year's Eve," the other answered, and then they collapsed into coed-caliber giggles and hugged each other like pageant queens. No shit. Delaney had stumbled into a Grant Connelly sexual conquest recover group.”