A Quote by Clarence Carter
This one time I made love on the back seat of a car and the police came and shined his light on me, and I said I'm strokin'. That's what I'm doing, I be strokin'.
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If I'm focused while I'm strokin I could change how you walk
I stroke it to the East, and I stroke it to the West, and I stroke it to the woman that I love best. I be strokin'.
Curran gave me a flat look. "I can always drive to a burger joint instead." "Oh, so you'd throw a burger down my throat and expect making out in the back seat?" He grinned. "We can do it in the front seat instead, if you prefer. Or on the hood of the car." "I'm not doing it on the hood of the car." "Is that a dare?" Why me?
I just got a car, and I gotta say, this car is very cryptic. The very first day I drove it, a light came on out of nowhere: 'Check engine.' Could they be any more vague? What if a light came on and said, 'Problem'?
I love flinging everything I buy behind me onto the back-seat of the car: it's always full of packages when I travel, when I leap in my car!
I think you have to be extremely strong to be in the police and I couldn't do that at all. I get nervous when a police car is driving past me when I'm in the car, pondering what they're doing or going to.
Car love is the sound of a throaty V-8 rumbling and revving, the acceleration throwing you back in the seat - especially when you get on a beautiful, winding road and the light's dappling through the trees.
You might be a redneck if you keep a fly swatter in the front seat of the car so you can reach your kids in the back seat of the car.
Ranger cradled my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from my eyes. "The ceremony is over. Can you make it back to the car?" I nodded. "I'm okay now. Am I red and blotchy from crying?" "Yes," Ranger said, brushing a kiss across my forehead. "I love you anyway." "There's all kinds of love," I said. Ranger took me by the hand and led me back to the SUV. "This is the kind that doesn't call for a ring. But a condom might come in handy." "That's not love," I told him. "That's lust.
One of the high points in my career came from a time I had with Tim Conway on a film when I had him fall down with laughter. I had this scene with him where I was this mechanic down fixing his car. I can't remember what my line was as written, but they were okay with me doing a made-up line. So Tim asks me what's wrong with his car, and I look up and say, "Well, looks like you got a squirrel caught up in there."
Shotgun!" announced Clary as Jace came back around the side of the van. Alec grabbed for his bow, strapped across his back. "Where?" "She means she wants the front seat," said Jace, pushing wet hair out of his eyes.
If there was a mobility service that's cheaper than owning a car, more reliable, and you get to sit in the back seat instead of being stressed out in the front seat, why would you own a car?
We could go back," he said. In the dome light of the car, his face looked hard as stone. "We could go back to your house. I can stay with you always. We can know each other's bodies in every way, night after night. I could love you." His nostrils flared, and he looked suddenly proud. "I could work. You would not be poor. I would help you." "Sounds like a marriage," I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. But my voice was too shaky. "Yes," he said.
It all started when I was 11 months old, singing a song by Jodeci in the back seat of the car. My mother turned around and said, 'Who is that?' When she saw it was me, she said, 'I think we have a singer on our hands.'
[J.Lo] found us a police car. Sort of. 'It's not a police car,' I said. 'It is,' said J.Lo. 'Looknow. Lights for flashing.' 'That's true.' 'Writing on the sides.' 'Yeah, but the writing? It says ''BullShake Party Patrol.'' Yes. Whatnow?
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.
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