With all the hybrid stuff and things like that, I think that's a fabulous direction to go with cars in that sense. As someone who grew up around muscle cars, I'll never not be able to not love a muscle car. Not that I don't care about the environment, that's not it. But I adore muscle cars.
I grew up in Texas, and people love their American-made muscle cars there. I grew up around people who loved cars and took care of cars and my dad's a big car nut, so I learned a little bit about cars - how to love them, most importantly. I think that from the time I could remember, I've always envisioned myself in a vintage muscle car.
I know I'm not supposed to like muscle cars, but I like muscle cars.
In a lot of action films, a lot of guys are driving muscle cars or vintage cars, whereas in reality, a lot of getaway drivers would actually choose, like, commuter cars and find a way to blend into freeway traffic as quickly as possible.
I don't know what the hell the future brings. If I did, I would play the lotto and win the mega millions and buy toy cars, real muscle cars, sneakers, and art.
I spend my money on cars. That's why I have a Challenger. It's a muscle car, like a Mustang. It's big and rumbly.
I really love muscle cars. I don't think people might realize that about me. I really want to go to an auto auction and blow my life savings on a Camaro. They have such design around them, such panache.
I love American muscle cars. It's my thing.
I like the old-school muscle cars.
No secret that I enjoy motor sports and cars in particular, building cars, building custom cars. Part of that scene. I love the flow of the cars and I love the art part of them. I love the sleekness and the uniqueness of each car that you can dream up.
I drive a 1965 Shelby Cobra. I love classic muscle cars.
I love everything from old-school cars to whatever the latest muscle or luxury vehicles are.
For me, muscle cars are a tribute to American ingenuity.
A car crossed two lanes of traffic, flipped, and landed on my dad's car. I don't blame cars. My dad loved cars. I don't have many memories of my dad. The love of cars is all I have of him, really.
I remember that my dad worked on cars from the '70s and '80s, and that's where my love came from: appreciating - even if it was a piece of crap - how much he loved American muscle.
I'm not a feminist. I hail men, I love men. I celebrate American male culture, and beer, and bars and muscle cars.
I don't lift weights at all. Every muscle on my body is for an actual task; there is no muscle that I train for show. If I want to be able to do a certain move or action, I train really hard until I can. And with all of that training comes muscle definition, so it's really an afterthought.