Volvo Cars Quotes

I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed the still, white figure. Edward Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the brake in time. It was just the sort of car that my truck would make scrap metal of. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw him laughing.

Let go!” I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me – I stumbled against the passenger door. “You are so pushy!” I grumbled “It’s open,” was all he responded. He got in the driver’s side. “I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!” I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I’d never put my hood up, so my hair was dripping down my back. He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. “Get in, Bella.” I didn’t answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the truck before he could catch me. I had to admit it, they weren’t good. “I’ll just drag you back,” he threatened, guessing my plan.

You have to distinguish between two things - the Swedish economy and the Swedish stock market. The Swedish economy is the sum of all the goods and services that are produced in this country every day. There are telephones from Ericsson, cars from Volvo, chickens from Scan, and shipments from Kiruna to Skovde. That's the Swedish economy, and it's just as strong or weak today as it was a week ago... The Stock Exchange is something very different. There is no economy and no production of goods and services. There are only fantasies in which people from one hour to the next decide that this or that company is worth so many billions, more or less. It doesn't have a thing to do with the Swedish economy.

Some time later, after Noah had discreetly disappeared, Declan’s Volvo glided up, as quiet as the Pig was loud. Ronan said, “Move up, move up” to Blue until she scooted the passenger seat far enough for him to clamber behind it into the backseat. He hurriedly sprawled back in the seat, throwing one jean-covered leg over the top of Adam’s and laying his head in a posture of thoughtless abandon. By the time Declan arrived at the driver’s side window, Ronan looked as if he had been asleep for days. “Lucky I was able to get away,” Declan said. He peered into the car, eyes passing over Blue and snagging on Ronan in the backseat. His gaze followed his brother’s leg to where it rested on top of Adam’s, and his expression tightened. “Thanks, D,” Gansey said easily. With no effort, he pushed open the door, forcing Declan back without seeming to. He moved the conversation to the region of the front fender. It became a battle of genial smiles and deliberate hand gestures.

And there were likely people who thought one could not interpret men's feelings by the cars they drove. But when they moved onto the street, Ove drove a Saab 96 and Rune a Volvo 244. After the accident Ove bought a Saab 95 so he'd have space for Sonja's wheelchair. That same year Rune bought a Volvo 245 to have space for a stroller. Three years later Sonja got a more modern wheelchair and Ove bought a hatchback, a Saab 900. Rune bought a Volvo 265 because Anita had started talking about another child. Then Ove bought two more Saab 900s and after that his Saab 9000. Rune bought a Volvo 265 and eventually a Volvo 745 station wagon. But no more children came. One evening Sonja came home and told Ove that Anita had been to the doctor. And a week later a Volvo 740 stood parked in Rune's garage. The sedan model. Ove saw it when he washed his Saab. In the evening Rune found a half bottle of whiskey outside his door. They never spoke about it.

You have to distinguish between two things – the Swedish economy and the Swedish stock market. The Swedish economy is the sum of all the goods and services that are produced in this country every day. There are telephones from Ericsson, cars from Volvo, chickens from Scan, and shipments from Kiruna to Skövde. That’s the Swedish economy, and it’s just as strong or weak today as it was a week ago.” He paused for effect and took a sip of water. “The Stock Exchange is something very different. There is no economy and no production of goods and services. There are only fantasies in which people from one hour to the next decide that this or that company is worth so many billions, more or less. It doesn’t have a thing to do with reality or with the Swedish economy.

I turned the steering wheel as far as I could. The old blue Volvo didn't believe in power steering. "More," my father said. I thought I was going to die. I thought I might have a heart attack. I thought if I ever had to drive that car, I'd end up looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger. "I think I'm having a heart attack," I said. "What?" "Never mind.

All at once I was standing at our front window one day, looking down at the driveway, and Natalie was buckling the baby into the car. This was a Volvo wagon her parents had given us when Opal was born. And I watched her shut the passenger door and walk around to the driver’s side, and I said to myself, ‘Why, great God in heaven! I seem to have married one of those station wagon mommies!’ So we got divorced.

Sweetheart, you got to understand something. Mad Dog Twenty-Twenty, that’s my favorite wine. And Mad Dog and opera, they don’t go together. Opera make you want to drink some white wine in a Volvo. Some Chardonnay or something like that. But listen to this.” He turned up the eight-track and James Brown hollered. “Now, James make you want to drink some Mad Dog in a Cadillac, don’t he? This is an Eldorado, to be more specific, but James don’t sing Chardonnay music, and this ain’t no Chardonnay car.

Ronan!” Gansey shouted, too late. Declan went down, but before Gansey even had time to form a plan of action, he was back up again, fist smacking into his brother. Ronan released a string of profanity so varied and pointed that Gansey was amazed that the words alone didn’t slay Declan. Arms windmilled. Knees met chests. Elbows rammed into faces. Then Ronan grabbed Declan’s suit coat and used it to throw him onto the mirrorlike hood of Declan’s Volvo. “Not the fucking car!” snarled Declan, his lip bloody.

Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. I yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly behind me. I revved the engine deafeningly and reversed out into the aisle. Edward was in his car already, two spaces down, sliding out smoothly in front of me, cutting me off. He stopped there—to wait for his family; I could see the four of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria. I considered taking out the rear of his shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses.

To the degree that advertising reaches us, occupying our time and thought, it keeps us vibrating within strict limits. If forty million people see a commercial for a car, then forty million people have a car commercial in their heads, all at the same time. This is bound to have more beneficial effect on the commodity system than if, at that moment, all those people were thinking separate thoughts which, in some cases, might not be about commodities at all. Of course, advertising people will argue against the notion that the purpose and result of their activities is to unify and homogenize people and culture. They are forever speaking of the dazzling array of choices our market system provides and how advertising provides the information we need to make choices. It is an ominous sign that so many people can accept this argument, which confuses diversity of product choice with diversity of life-style or thoughts. It ought to be self-evident that if I choose a Ford and you choose a Volvo, we are not expressing diversity, we are expressing unity. Moreover, if you and I at any one moment are both occupied with mental images and feelings related to products—any products— rather than some experience which is not connected to purchasing, then in terms of the commodity system, the gross national product, and the world of advertising, we are indistinguishable; we have merged as “market.” While it might matter to Upjohn or Cutter Laboratories which drug a consumer buys, both are in agreement that they benefit whenever people seek any drug rather than a nondrug solution to a problem. Advertising, then, serves to further the movement of humans into artificial environments by narrowing the conception of diversity to fit the framework of commodities while unifying people within this conception. The result is a singularly channeled mentality, nicely open to receiving commercial messages, ready to confuse brand diversity with diversity itself, and to confuse human need with the advertiser’s need to sell commodities.

As Regina McGowan pulled her silver Volvo SUV into the driveway in front of the huge, farmhouse-style home, all Megan could see was boys. Boys everywhere. All seven of them plus their dad, running and laughing and shoving each other around on the front lawn, engaged in what appeared to be a full-contact, tackle version of ultimate Frisbee. They were playing shirts and skins. Shirts and mighty-fine-lookin’ skins. Megan’s pulse pounded in her ears. Forget evil, laughing little monsters. These guys had been touched by the Abercrombie gods. They were a blur of toned, suntanned perfection. For a few seconds, Megan had trouble focusing on any one of them, but then one of the skins scored a goal and jumped up, arms thrust in the air, whooping in triumph as he clutched the Frisbee in one hand. His six-pack abs were dotted with sweat and a couple of stray pieces of torn grass. His smile sent shivers right through Megan’s core. He had shaggy blond hair, a square chin, and the most perfect shoulder muscles Megan had ever seen. One of his brothers slapped him on the back and pointed toward the Volvo. He turned around and looked right at Megan. The rest of the world ceased to exist. “Well, here we are,” Regina said, killing the engine. “Megan?” He smiled slowly--a perfect, open, happy smile. “Megan?” Something touched Megan’s arm. “Oh! Uh…yeah?” Megan whipped her eyes away from Mr. Perfection and blushed. Regina’s brown eyes twinkled with amusement and sympathy. “You can live in the car if you want to, but they’ll find a way to get to you anyway.” “Oh…uh…” God, did she just catch me drooling all over one of her kids? Gross! “Don’t worry. They promised me they would be on their best behavior,” Regina said, unbuckling her seat belt. She swung her long dark hair over her shoulder as she got out of the car and leaned down to look at Megan. “My advice? Just be yourself. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Megan managed to smile and Regina slammed the car door. Be myself. Yeah. Right. Because that’s gotten me so far in the past.

Volvo has adopted a similar approach. Its ‘Autonomous Emergency Braking’ system, which automatically slows the car down if it gets too close to a vehicle in front, is widely credited for the impressive safety record of the Volvo XC90. Since the car first went on sale in the UK in 2002, over 50,000 vehicles have been purchased, and not a single driver or passenger within any of them has been killed in a crash.

Downstairs they exited the building into a small employee parking lot and headed straight for a sports car that looked like it belonged in a James Bond movie. It was sleek, with tinted windows and a matte black paint job. As she walked toward it, Sara wondered if it came fully loaded with secret weapons and an ejector seat. She was just about to run her fingers along the body when Mother called her. “Sorry, but that’s not ours,” he said. She turned to see that he and Sydney had stopped at an oldish Volvo station wagon that looked more mom than Bond.

No one thought it odd that Pierre always delivered a kick to the car upon entering or leaving, as Volvo-bashing was a general practice in southwestern France, and could even be encountered as far away as Paris. Indeed, carried to cosmopolitan centers around the world by tourists, Volvo-bashing was slowly becoming a cult activity throughout the world, and this pleased Nicholai Hel, since he had begun it all.

We could use geofencing to limit car speeds within cities, or certain parts of cities, or even by time of day or day of week such as when schools or bars let out. Doing so would save lives. We choose not to. Europe isn’t exactly limiting speeds, yet. But as of 2022, Europe requires that all new cars sold use GPS and street sign detection to determine if a driver is speeding and if so, warn the driver. Starting in 2021, Volvo limits top speeds on new cars to 112 mph. It’s not revolutionary—nor that helpful to pedestrians and bicyclists

It’s a much cooler car than my “safe” Volvo but it is like Edward Cullen’s one in Twilight.

Having great components is not enough. We are obsessed in medicine with having great components, the best drugs, the best devices, the best specialists, but pay little attention to how to make them fit together well. Berwick notes how wrong-headed this approach is. Anyone who understands systems will know immediately that optimizing parts is not a good route to system excellence, he says. He gives the example of a famous thought experiment, of trying to build the world’s greatest car by assembling the world’s greatest car parts. We connect the engine of a Ferrari, the breaks of a Porsche, the suspension of BMW, the body of a Volvo. What we get, of course, is nothing close to a great car. We get a pile of very expensive junk.

You have to distinguish between two things - the Swedish economy and the Swedish stock market. The Swedish economy is the sum of all the goods and services that are produced in this country every day. There are telephones from Ericsson, cars from Volvo, chickens from Scan, and shipments from Kiruna to Skövde. That's the Swedish economy, and it's just as strong or weak today as it was a week ago... The Stock Exchange is something very different. There is no economy and no production of goods and services. There are only fantasies in which people from one hour to the next decide that this or that company is worth so many billions, more or less. It doesn't have a thing to do with the Swedish economy.

Milton pointed his key at his Volvo and thumbed the lock. It seemed a pointless affectation, and the car looked vulnerable as they walked away from it.

When Lasseter got his next paycheck, it contained a small bonus. “You have to use this to buy a new car,” Steve told him. “It has to be safe, and I have to approve it.” John and Nancy picked out a Volvo, and Steve approved.

The next morning, Steve and John were sitting on the porch of the house, taking in the nice view—which was marred only by the sight of John’s 1984 Honda Civic, with 210,000 miles on it. “The paint was just sunburned off,” says Lasseter. “The seats were shot—I put T-shirts over them. Steve had driven up in their Jeep Cherokee. Now he knew the roads I had to drive on every day.” “Don’t tell me that’s your car,” Steve said. “Yeah, it is,” John told him. “You drive to and from Pixar on these roads in that car?” Steve said. Lasseter sheepishly nodded. “Okay. No, no, no, no. No, that just won’t do.” “Steve,” said Lasseter, “I’ve got to be honest, I can’t afford a new car right now. We just bought this house and it’s far more than we can afford. I just can’t do it now.” “I think what he was thinking,” Lasseter told me, “was, ‘Oh my God, I bet the farm on this guy, and he’s driving that crap car … if a truck hits him—dink!—he’ll be dead.’ ” “Okay,” Steve said, “we’ll figure something out.” When Lasseter got his next paycheck, it contained a small bonus. “You have to use this to buy a new car,” Steve told him. “It has to be safe, and I have to approve it.” John and Nancy picked out a Volvo, and Steve approved.

Evidence based medicine is meant to ensure that quality treatment options are chosen and diagnosis is based on empirical evidence rather than personal assumptions. But this area adapts to changes more slowly than other industries do. For example, after the driverless car developed by Google ran for 1 million miles without incident, car manufacturers such as Volvo announced the inclusion of such algorithms in its future models. For obvious reasons things are a bit slower in healthcare. But soon an ever–increasing gap is going to be too big to cope with.

Driving into Huddersfield, Mary followed the signs for the city center and Kingsgate Shopping Centre. She managed to shoehorn the Volvo into the multistory car park without scraping too much paint off on the concrete pillars, then led the fractious and irritated children out in search of a toilet facility, fast food, and some sort of bribe. “There’s a GameStop in here,” she told Robert, “and something called The Entertainer Toy Shop. Wouldn’t you like to go there after lunch, children?

I started back in high school in Orange County.  We used to crash cars to set off the air bags.  It sort of grew.  We figured if you packed enough kids into a Volvo with front and side air bags nobody could get seriously hurt.  We were wrong about that, but still, we had fun.

The success stories of the Chinese car industry have all been small, upstart companies, often sponsored by local governments—most notably the private firm Geely, which in 2010 acquired the Volvo passenger-car company.

I really happy to be a member in this group. AntTravels offering luxury volvo bus rental, car hire, tempo traveller rental in Delhi for both local & outstation tour at affordable price. Call +91-9811448977 for instance confirmation.

Jamie got back to her apartment in nineteen minutes and forty-nine seconds.  It wasn’t a personal best for a five-kilometre run, but it was still fast.  She showered and dressed, pulled on her boots, and was out the door in seventeen minutes flat. Which probably was close to a personal best.  She was wearing jeans she picked up from a supermarket. She liked them because they had a three percent lycra content woven into the denim, which stretched a little and meant that she could more easily crouch, walk, and kick someone in the side of the head if the situation called for it. It hadn’t yet, but she had a long career ahead of herself, she hoped.  She jumped into her car — a small and economical hybrid hatchback which squeezed around the city easily — and headed north towards the Lea.  It took nearly forty minutes to get there in rush hour traffic, and by the time she pulled up, Roper was leaning against the bonnet of his ten-year-old Volvo saloon, smoking a cigarette. He was tall with thinning, short hair, and a face that looked like he was always squinting into a stiff wind.  His long black coat was pinned to his right leg in the breeze and his shirt looked like it’d been pulled out of the laundry hamper rather than a clean drawer. He was perpetually single, and it showed. There was no one to hold him accountable when he decided it was okay to skip a morning shower for an extra ten minutes sleeping off his hangover. What she hated most about him, beyond the cigarette stink and the pissed-at-life attitude, was that she always had to look twice to make sure he wasn’t her father.  Her mother had dragged her away from him in Sweden, and now, she’d been thrown together with a guy who seemingly had inherited all his bad habits. Her mum said it was because all detectives were like it if they did the job long enough. They saw too much and didn’t talk about it enough. Which led inevitably to drink, and drugs, and other women. She’d spoken from experience of course. And Jamie knew she hadn’t exaggerated.  Though moving them both to Britain seemed like a bit of a dramatic reaction. But then again, her father had given her mother gonorrhoea and couldn’t say which woman he’d gotten it from. So Jamie figured it was reasonable.  He would have turned sixty-one this year. Roper pushed off the Volvo and ground out his cigarette under the heel of his battered Chelsea boot. Jamie looked at it, stopping short of his odour-radius. ‘You gonna just leave that there?’ He looked between his feet, rolling onto the outsides of them as he inspected the flattened butt. ‘It’ll wash away in the rain.’ ‘Into the ocean, yeah, where some poor fish is going to eat it,’ Jamie growled, coming to a stop in front of him.

They may have been the same rank, but he was still technically her senior — in both age and experience — and sometimes he liked to flex. Make himself look like he gave a damn. She leaned forward, hit the keyboard shortcut to minimise the windows, and got up. ‘Nothing,’ she said, pulling her jacket on. ‘That’s helpful.’ She ignored the comment, downed half her now-tepid coffee and bit lightly into her bagel, holding it between straight white teeth as she powered off her monitor and tucked her chair in.  ‘I don’t know why you bother,’ Roper said, flicking a hand at the now-black screen. ‘Not while all this is burning.’ He gestured around the room at the other desks and detectives working away. Dozens of screens were lit, the photocopier was buzzing, the lights were humming, and phones and devices were charging on every surface.  She shrugged. ‘If you leave a monitor on standby overnight it wastes enough energy to—’ ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, dismissing her with his hand. ‘And the polar ice caps are melting and penguins are getting sunburn. Come on, we’ve got a murder to solve.’ He walked forward, draining what was left in his coffee cup, and put it down on a random desk — much to the disgust of the guy sitting behind it. Roper swaggered towards the lifts, finally shrugging off the hangover, his caffeine quota for the next hour filled. Once his nicotine level had been topped off, he might actually be capable of some decent police work. Jamie fell in behind him, trying to get her mind off the other missing kids and back on Grace Melver. Whatever the hell was going on, Jamie had a feeling that Grace Melver knew something about it. Whether she realised or not.  Chapter 7 She walked with Roper without thinking about it.  Jamie had dropped him back at the crime scene after the shelter so he could pick his car up. The medical examiner was there and the scene of the crime officers, or SOCOs, were crawling all over in their plastic-covered boots, snapping photos and putting things in evidence bags.  They hadn’t stuck around.  It was best to leave the SOCOs do their jobs, and anyway Jamie and Roper had paperwork that needed to be done.  Her fingers typed on autopilot now. She’d had her prelim licked before she’d finished her first cup of coffee. Roper headed for his Volvo without asking and got into the driver’s seat.  Jamie pulled the door open and got in, closing the door only when he’d cranked the ignition so she could crack the window. The seats were covered

with dust and ash, a fast-food coffee cup was sitting in the centre console with eight cigarette buts dropped in it, and the passenger footwell was littered with burger wrappers and cigarette packets.  She could comment, but it wouldn’t make a difference.  He wheeled backwards into the middle of the underground car park and accelerated up the ramp. The scanner clocked his number plate and the barrier lifted. The engine whined and the Volvo thrust itself into the mild midday sun, the sounds of the city engulfing them.  They didn’t speak on the way over — both too engrossed in their own thoughts. Roper was no doubt planning his line of questioning for Grace. Jamie was thinking about Ollie. About how an eighteen-year-old kid goes from sixth-form to heroin in one fell swoop.  She still hadn’t spoken to his parents. Or to the doctor. She really needed to.

You can subscribe to a Volvo XC40 (their compact SUV) for $600 a month, and that includes concierge services like packages delivered straight to your vehicle. Everything is covered except the gas: insurance, maintenance, wear-and-tear replacements, 24/7 customer care. Volvo’s CEO expects that one out of every five of the company’s vehicles will be delivered via subscription by 2023, and the company is working on its own ridesharing network that will allow users to loan or rent its cars for profit. Jim Nichols, product and technology communications manager at Volvo USA, told Consumer Reports, “Our research has shown that many customers are looking for a hassle-free, fixed-rate experience that mirrors the many subscriptions they currently have, such as Netflix or Apple’s iPhone [upgrade] program.

Apple introduces CarPlay for iPhone use in vehicles The CarPlay technology will be available in vehicles as early as this year. Photo: Bloomberg By Tom Lavell | 209 words Frankfurt: Apple Inc. on Monday said their new CarPlay technology will enable drivers use iPhone with voice commands or steering-wheel buttons, and will be available in vehicles as early as this year. Fiat SpA's Ferrari supercar division, Daimler AG's Mercedes-Benz luxury unit and Volvo Car Corp. will show customers the CarPlay system this week, with other auto producers introducing it later, Cupertino, California-based Apple said in a statement. CarPlay will be available as an update to the iOS 7 mobile software on iPhones, and works with the Siri voice-recognition feature. In-vehicle technology is the top selling point for 39% of car buyers, more than twice the 14% who cited traditional performance measures such as power and speed as their first consideration, consulting company Accenture Plc said in a study published in December. The US senate commerce committee chairman Jay Rockefeller, a West Virginia Democrat, vowed in February to pursue rules for in-vehicle use of mobile phones and Internet-linked entertainment systems unless carmakers and suppliers do more to limit disruptions to drivers' focus. "CarPlay lets drivers use their iPhone in the car with minimized distraction," Greg Joswiak, Apple's marketing vice president for the mobile device, said in Monday's statement, released in advance of the technology's debut at the Geneva International Motor Show this week. Bloomberg