Porsche Car Quotes

I'm sorry about your Porsche." "I can replace the Porsche. I can't replace you. You need to be more careful." I was just sitting in your car!" Babe, you're a magnet for disaster.

She’s not just a Porsche. She’s a Porsche nine-one-one GT-three. There’s a difference.Let me guess, it’s the love of your life?” I said, quoting Travis’ statement about his motorcycle. “No, it’s a car. The love of my life will be a woman with my last name.

Nineteenth-century preacher Henry Ward Beecher's last words were "Now comes the mystery." The poet Dylan Thomas, who liked a good drink at least as much as Alaska, said, "I've had eighteen straight whiskeys. I do believe that's a record," before dying. Alaska's favorite was playwright Eugene O'Neill: "Born in a hotel room, and--God damn it--died in a hotel room." Even car-accident victims sometimes have time for last words. Princess Diana said, "Oh God. What's happened?" Movie star James Dean said, "They've got to see us," just before slamming his Porsche into another car. I know so many last words. But I will never know hers.

Do you see that man in the black Porsche?" I asked the women. They squinted out at Ranger. "Yes," they said."Your partner." "He's homeless. He's looking for a place to stay and he might be interested in renting Singh's room." Mrs.Apusenja's eyes widened. "We could use the income."She looked at Nonnie and then back at Ranger. "Is he married?" "Nope. He's single. He's a real catch." Connie did something between a gasp and a snort and buried her head back behind the computer. "Thank you for everything." Mrs.Apusenja said. "I suppose you are not such a bad slut. I will go talk to your partner.: "Omigod," Connie said, when the door closed behind the Apusenja's. "Ranger's going to kill you." The Apusenjas stood beside the Porsche, talkig to Ranger for a few long minutes, giving him the big sales pitch. The pitch wound down, Ranger responded, and Mrs. Apusenja looked disappointed. The two women crossed the road and got into the burgundy Escort and quickly drove away. Ranger turned his head in my direction and our eyes met. His expression was still bemused, but this time it was the sort of bemused expression a kid has when he's pulling the wings off a fly. "Uh-Oh,"Connie said. I whipped around and faced Connie. "Quick, give me an FTA. You're backed up, right? For God's sake, give me something fast. I need a reason to stand here until he calms down!" Connie shoved a pile of folders at me. "Pick one. Any one! Oh shit, he's getting out of his car.".... He leaned into me and his lips brushed the shell of my ear. "Feeling playful?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "Watch your back babe. I will get even." -Ranger and Stephanie

Ranger slung an arm around my shoulders and kissed me on the top of my head. “Someday I need to talk to you about car care.” “I know about car care. I kept a case of motor oil in the back.” “That’s my girl.” His Porsche 911 turbo

Acheron scoffed. "Nick won't be learning in my Porsche. It's a standard. I think it'd be best to teach him in an automatic. Let him get used to the feel of the car and traffic rules before we complicate it with a gearshift. Last thing King ADD needs is one more distraction." "Hey!" Nick protested. "I'm not that- hey, did you see that?" He pointed to the wall as a joke.

Tax troubles aside, Sunny was proud of his wealth and liked to broadcast it with his cars. He drove a black Lamborghini Gallardo and a black Porsche 911. Both had vanity license plates. The one on the Porsche read “DAZKPTL” in mock reference to Karl Marx’s treatise on capitalism. The Lamborghini’s plate was “VDIVICI,” a play on the phrase “Veni, vidi, vici” (“I came, I saw, I conquered”), which Julius Caesar used to describe his quick and decisive victory at the Battle of Zela in a letter to the Roman Senate.

Porsche 911 GT2 – Turbo Charged!

The Porsche 911 GT2 turbo-charged racer is one of the fastest and most powerful cars ever built!  It is a very famous car that is enjoyed by anyone who drives it.

Porsche made more money last year from selling almost 190,000 cars than its parent company, Volkswagen, made from selling more than 4.5 million.

I’d never driven a Porsche in my life and it made me nervous to drive one now, but I realized I could get used to driving a luxury sports car pretty darn quick. I really should have been born into royalty.

The car was some kind of Porsche and the door stood open and beckoning, like a gold embossed invitation to sin If she could survive a ride with angel-lips in his penis car then surely she’d be immune to him in any situation?

In the beginning I looked around and could not find quite the car i dreamed of, so i decided to build it myself

This Porsche was a gift from an antique car dealer,” Scythe Curie explained to her. “He wanted immunity?” Citra asked, assuming the man’s motive. “On the contrary. I had just gleaned his father, so he already had immunity.” “Wait,” said Citra. “You gleaned his father, and he gave you a car?” “Yes.” “So he hated his father?” “No, he loved his father very much.” “Am I missing something?

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.

If a car can represent something, this one represents contradiction. For most of his life, my dad has been able to have any woman he wants. In response, he’s gone through as many as possible, betraying each for someone younger and more absurd. Conversely, for most of his life he’s been able to have any car he wants, too. In response, he’s remained married to this, a 1982 Porsche with a tricky clutch.

It's that buying the Porsche, in all of its German-engineered perfection, just wasn't as special. Nothing will ever compare to the first time I bought myself a car, because it simply can't be done again.

The left-hand lane is exclusively for the use of Porsches, BMWs and Mercedes. Dark-coloured vehicles only please. If you're driving a white or silver car please stick to the middle lane at all times and moderate your speed. Loser!

Steve created the only lifestyle brand in the tech industry,” Larry Ellison said. “There are cars people are proud to have—Porsche, Ferrari, Prius—because what I drive says something about me. People feel the same way about an Apple product.

Consider the level of car-purchasing knowledge Dr. South has recently acquired that will never pay capital gains or real dividends or enhance the productivity of his business. He now has knowledge about every Porsche dealer within a four hundred-mile radius of his home. Dr. South also can tell you immediately the dealer’s cost on nearly every Porsche model, the cost of options and accessories, and the performance characteristics of most models. It takes much time and effort to acquire such information. Dr.

Nineteenth-century preacher Henry Ward Beecher's last words were “Now comes the mystery.” The poet Dylan Thomas, who liked a good drink at least as much as Alaska, said, “I've had eighteen straight whiskeys. I do believe that's a record,” before dying. Alaska's favorite was playwright Eugene O'Neill: “Born in a hotel room, and—God damnit— died in a hotel room.” Even car-accident victims sometimes have time for last words. Princess Diana said, “Oh God. What's happened?” Movie star James Dean said, “They've got to see us,” just before slamming his Porsche into another car. I know so many last words. But I will never know hers.

Most of all, there had been a time when honor meant something at the Colgan School, when school property was respected, when the faculty was revered—when the headmaster’s mint-condition 1958 Porsche Speedster would never have been placed on top of the fountain in the quad with water shooting out of its headlights on an unusually warm evening in November. There had been a time when the girl responsible—the very one who had lucked into that last-minute vacancy only a few months before—would have had the decency to admit what she’d done and quietly taken her leave of the school. But unfortunately, that era, much like the headmaster’s car, was finished.

Take it all, all of it!" Greg cried out. "These things here...I've been making them better, fixing them. It doesn't matter...they don't matter. I've been here before." He paused to try to collect himself. "It's my past, my present...these things--" He lifted a hand out to the objects around him. "These things are me." Now whispering, "Can't you see me?

A man asks his friend for a ride in his Porsche. The friend replies my car only has two seats. The man says well there are only two of us. The friend replies yes, but if I fill the seat with you I can not fill it with possibilities. The man says what if I am the possibility. The friend replies if you were the type of possibility I am looking for I would be asking to ride with you.

Omigod. He gave you a car?" "He said it was an investment in our working relationship. What does that mean?" "What kind of car is it?" "A new Porsche." "That's at least oral sex." "Be serious!" I said. "Okay, the truth is . . . It's beyond oral sex. It could be, you know, butt stuff." "I'll return the car." "Stephanie, this is a Porsche!" "And I think he's flirting with me, but I'm not sure.

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.

During the year we interviewed him, Dr. South spent more than $70,000 for his most recent motor vehicle purchase, related sales tax, and insurance. Yet for the same period, how much did he place in his pension plan? About $5,700! In other words, only about $1 in every $125 of his income was set aside for retirement. The amount of time Dr. South took to find the best deal on his car was also counterproductive. We estimated that it took him more than sixty hours to study, negotiate, and purchase his Porsche. How much time and effort does it take someone to place money in a pension plan? A small fraction of this time and energy. It is easy for Dr. South to say he wants to accumulate wealth, but his actions speak much louder than his words. Perhaps that explains why he has lost a considerable amount of wealth through imprudent investing. Investing when one has little or no intellectual basis for one’s decisions often translates into major losses. T

To purchase a Volkswagen, customers were required to make a weekly deposit of at least 5 Reichsmarks into a DAF account on which they received no interest. Once the account balance had reached 750 Reichsmarks, the customer was entitled to delivery of a VW. The DAF meanwhile achieved an interest saving of 130 Reichsmarks per car. In addition, purchasers of the VW were required to take out a two-year insurance contract priced at 200 Reichsmarks. The VW savings contract was non-transferable, except in case of death, and withdrawal from the contract normally meant the forfeit of the entire sum deposited. Remarkably, 270,000 people signed up to these contracts by the end of 1939 and by the end of the war the number of VW-savers had risen to 340,000. In total, the DAF netted 275 million Reichsmarks in deposits. But not a single Volkswagen was ever delivered to a civilian customer in the Third Reich. After 1939, the entire output was reserved for official uses of various kinds. Most of Porsche’s half-finished factory was turned over to military production. The 275 million Reichsmarks deposited by the VW savers were lost in the post-war inflation. After a long legal battle, VW’s first customers received partial compensation only in the 1960s.

Digital technology offers new, imaginative ways to connect personally and powerfully with potential customers in traditional ways like direct marketing. A great example of this comes from a Toronto Porsche dealer who went around some of the Canadian city’s most affluent neighborhoods with a shiny white 911 sports car, a digital camera, and a mobile printer. Taking photographs of the brand new vehicle parked in the driveways of these upscale homes, the dealer printed out custom ads and dropped them into the mail slots. The campaign featured the provocative headline: “It’s closer than you think.” The result was an astonishing 32 percent response rate, which means about a third of these prospects called to schedule a test drive, a staggering improvement over the very low single digit response rates typically deemed successful in traditional direct mail efforts.

going to church no more makes you holy than standing in a Porsche showroom makes you a sports car.

When it entered production he would be entitled to a royalty of 1 mark per car. In February 1936 the first of three prototypes

Imagine trying to jerry-rig a Volkswagen Beetle to travel at speeds of 150 miles per hour. In 1933, Adolf Hitler commissioned Dr. Ferdinand Porsche to develop a cheap car that could get 40 miles per gallon of gas and provide a reliable form of transportation for the average German family. The result was the VW Beetle. This history, Hitler’s plan, places constraints on the ways we can modify the Beetle today; the engineering can be tweaked only so far before major problems arise and the car reaches its limit. In many ways, we humans are the fish equivalent of a hot-rod Beetle. Take the body plan of a fish, dress it up to be a mammal, then tweak and twist that mammal until it walks on two legs, talks, thinks, and has superfine control of its fingers—and you have a recipe for problems. We can dress up a fish only so much without paying a price. In a perfectly designed world—one with no history—we would not have to suffer everything from hemorrhoids to cancer.

And let’s face it, his car is ridiculously hot, too. I practically had an orgasm when we entered his garage and I feasted my eyes on a fleet of luxury cars — Land Rover, Porsche, Mercedes, Tesla, Bentley, Jaguar.

Power of Home Detailing Have you ever wished your handsome pride and joy, your Porsche or another sports car, still looked as dazzling as the day it graced the sales brochure? I certainly did, and I hope to take you on a journey of discovery to a place where you are empowered with the know-how to bring your beast back to her former glory with the power of home detailing.

The Secrets Revealed The eye-opening detailing projects explained in this book will take you fearlessly through the processes to achieve classy, professional standard detailing results for your Porsche (or any car for that matter). By following my simple, tried and tested step-by-step guides, you can keep every inch of your ride in gorgeous tiptop condition at a mere fraction of the cost charged by the pro detailers. And you will have the satisfaction of achieving those results yourself and knowing you completed your project correctly. Call us ‘weekend warrior’ or ‘driveway hero’; the outcome is the same for the savvy home detailer.

When I had all those things (the porsche, the car, the $6000 watch), then I would be ok. And that’s what I wanted most of all - to be ok.

Jeremy George Lake Charles Sports Car Collector His collection includes several Lamborghinis, including one from the late 1960s and early 1970s, as well as a number of other rare models. His collection of 40 cars includes a Porsche 911 GT3 RS, a Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG and a Ferrari 458 Italia. Jeremy George Lake Charles Other cars in his garage include a Ford Mustang, an Aston Martin Vantage, two Porsche 918 Spyders and two Rolls-Royce Phantom IIs. This extraordinary collection of cars included a 1964 Ferrari 488 GTB with Stirling engine and four-speed manual transmission, an original Lotus Elans and an early Ferrari F40. The Boxster is generally a great sports car, but the 718 badge certainly makes it a classic of the future. This collector's car is always the one I see lined up in front of me, and I have seen the owner pull the car out of the car every weekend with a sense of pride. The Type R will probably be a lethal collector's car that we will see for many years to come. He is a collector of cars, which is something I'm not sure what to do. M is for sure it will be in a few years. Jeremy George Lake Charles Another advantage of owning sports cars is that most eventually become collectibles. For the super-rich, though, there are some amazing car collections on the list of collectibles, but I can't remember all of them for that long. It should come as no surprise, then, that Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, the owner of the world's largest collection of sports cars, has 7,000 cars, including cars from brands such as Ferrari, Porsche, Mercedes-Benz, Audi, BMW and Porsche. Sheik Mohammed has taken 19 years to sort through his entire collection because he has to drive different cars every day from now on.

Karly- Look- at this old photo from- Nevaeh town, and her mother from the past. The uniformed man motioned lazily, not paying attention. Olivia accelerated, edging around him, and heading for the gate. He shouted something at us, All the same, and all, held his ground, waving frantically to keep the next car from following our bad example. The man at the gate wore a matching uniform. As we approached him, the throngs of tourists passed, crowding the sidewalks, staring curiously at the pushy, flashy Porsche. The guard stepped into the middle of the street before us. Olivia angled the car carefully before she came to a full stop. The sun beat against my window that I was now looking out, and she was in shadow. She swiftly reached behind the seat and grabbed something from her bag. The guard came around the car with an irritated expression and tapped on her window angrily. She rolled the window down halfway, and I watched him do a double-take when he saw the face behind the dark glass. ‘I'm sorry, only tour buses allowed in the city today, miss,’ he said in English, with a heavy accent. He was apologetic to both of us, now, as if he wished he had better news for the strikingly beautiful woman such as us. ‘It's a private tour,’ Olivia said, flashing an alluring cute flirty smile. Then and there, she reached her hand out of the window, into the sunlight. I froze some until, at that moment, I realized she was wearing an elbow-length, tan glove. She took his hand, still raised from tapping her window, and pulled it into the car some. She put something into his palm and folded his fingers around it, saying there you go. His face was dazed as he retrieved his hand and stared at the thick roll of money he now held. The outside bill was a thousand-dollar bill. ‘Is this a joke?’ He mumbled. Olivia's smile was blinding. ‘Only if you think it's funny.’ He looked at her, his eyes staring wide. I glanced nervously at the clock on the dash. If Marcel stuck to his plan, we had only five minutes left.

Hell, if Roxy muttered “I wanna drive a Porsche,” I’d get her one. There didn’t seem to be any luxury car dealers in the Magic City of Sharia, though, so I might have to settle for drawing their logo on Dillo’s forehead.

Then one day John came in very excited, made me cover my eyes and led me outside. Standing on the drive was a gold Porsche for me. A few weeks later I got up to find the Porsche gone and in its place a red Ferrari. Now that he, too, was able to drive, John had part-exchanged my car for one for himself. Generous as he was, this impulsive act was typically thoughtless: he hadn’t stopped to consider whether I might mind, just rushed ahead. Once he’d taken a decision everyone and everything had to fall into line with it. He had little time for negotiation, considering or planning, preferring to act on impulse and hang the consequences

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This suit is Hugo Boss. That’s not just the name of a brand, it’s the name of a dude—a German dude who got his start making uniforms for the Nazis. Ferdinand Porsche—as in, the fancy sports cars—same thing.

My girlfriend left a note at my brand new Porsche. It said, “This is not working!” I got nervous. I started the car and it is working fine!

The salesman told Anna that it was pointless to try to rip off his customers, because of everything a Sichuanese person must have gone through in order to accumulate enough money for a Porsche. “The people who are capable of buying luxury cars have exhausted every means to earn profits and they have coped with all kinds of people,” he said. “It’s impossible to deceive them.

Porsche Cayenne. It was his personal fleet car. Very luxe but equipped with ankle restraints bolted onto the

Aerodynamically there isn’t much you can do to enhance your Beetle’s handling. The Porsche style whale tale – um, tail is just that – a load of nonsense. It does no aerodynamic spoiling at all except to spoil your car ergonomically, and quite frankly, it looks like crap. It goes with blue LED lights under the car and (yuk) fur on the dashboard.

Imagine two independent worlds, in one of which the wealthy are taxed more heavily than in the other. In the high-tax world, the wealthiest drivers buy Porsche 911 Turbos for $150,000 rather than $333,000 Ferrari F12 Berlinettas, the vehicle of choice of wealthy drivers in the low-tax world. But because the lowly Porsche includes every design feature that materially affects handling and performance, the absolute differences between these cars are minuscule. In both cases, drivers would take the same pride in owning the best car on the road. Available evidence suggests that even if all other features of the two worlds were exactly the same, it would be difficult to detect any measurable happiness differences between wealthy drivers in these environments. But of course other features would not be the same. Even if governments in both worlds were highly wasteful, at least some of the extra revenue in the high-tax world would go for public investment, including better road maintenance. So the real question is this: “Who is happier, someone who drives a $333,000 Ferrari on roads riddled with foot-deep potholes, or someone driving a $150,000 Porsche on well-maintained roads?

Melrose Avenue, Santa Monica - Dialogue on a terrace. SHE: You are jealous ? Are you jealous ? You are fucking jealous! . . . Let me say . . . You 're twenty and I am forty-two, and I'll give my fucking ass to fucking anybody . . . Do you know that? * He gets up, crosses Melrose for no reason, comes back, kneels down in front of her (younger, but as theatrical). HE: Do you love me? Do you love me? SHE: Yes . . . Yes, I love you . . . The Italian kneads his meatballs. An Indian is playing a video game and its shrill soundtrack provides a backing to the conversation. The woman herself speaks in a shrill, hysterical voice. It is pleasant in Los Angeles in November, on the Melrose terrace, around the middle of the night. Everyone is smiling somewhere. No passion. A scene American-style. The waiter takes the car keys and drags off the woman, who shows off her black-stockinged legs and pretends to be mad. A black man gets up and, as he passes, says to me: ' Too much love! ' Gliding along the road that runs beside the coast in a black Porsche is like penetrating slowly into the inside of your own body.

Okay, then . . .” I stand up. “It’s been real,” I tell David flatly. “Yeah,” he says. “Later.” Ethan has leapt to his feet and joined us. “I’ll walk you guys to your car,” he says. “That’s really nice, but you don’t have to,” I say. “We’re parked a couple of blocks away.” “My brother said I should.” “Yes, I did.” David gets up, jamming his phone in his pocket. “Come on. Let’s accompany these two lovely ladies to their car.” I catch a whiff of sarcasm, but the other two are oblivious to it. Ethan resumes his X-Men discourse, but the rest of us are silent, and the walk feels endless. We come to a halt at our Subaru hatchback. “This is yours?” David says, like he’s surprised. “My mom’s.” “Where’s your car?” “Nonexistent?” “Seriously? I pictured you always cruising around in some hot girl car like a Porsche or something.” “A ‘hot girl car’? What does that even mean? That the girl is hot or the car is?” He flushes. “I don’t know why I used that word. I never do.” “Hot or girl?” I ask sweetly.

You know that jerk that drives up the shoulder on the freeway, passing perhaps miles of cars stuck patiently in traffic, just knowing someone up there, eventually, will let him in? It’s the same thing! Someone always accommodates the pushy, petulant jerk! Someone always lets that guy with the silver Porsche Boxster in and the rest of us, stuck behind the guy letting him in, have to suffer. It’s the same with people all over. It only takes one sucker. One push-over to mess it up for the rest of us.

isn’t a vehicle subscription just another word for a lease? Well, no. A lease still binds you to a specific vehicle, whereas a subscription can potentially offer you access to a range of vehicles. “Simply flip between vehicles via the app as your needs change,” says Porsche on its website. You’re signing up with the company, not the car. Another difference: With subscriptions, all the potentially annoying aspects of owning a vehicle (registration, insurance, maintenance) simply go away. With leases, you still have to get your own insurance. Also, many car subscriptions give you the option to subscribe on a month-to-month basis. As Christina Bonnington of Slate notes, “You could theoretically not have a car for ten months of the year when you’re working and using public transit and then get a car subscription for two months when you’ll be travelling more often.

Especially when driving uphill, the lighter the car, the faster it would go. To save a few pounds, some Porsche racers had aluminum fuel tanks that would easily split open in a crash, engulfing the car in flames. By Piëch’s account, four Porsche racers died during his time as head of the racing program, but none because of his designs.