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“You can't take highways during the apocalypse, because they'll be packed with panicky people.”
― J. Cornell Michel, Jordan's Brains: A Zombie Evolution

“Three o'clock in the morning.

The highway is empty, under a malignant moon. The oil drippings make the roadway gleam like a blue-satin ribbon. The night is still but for a humming noise coming up somewhere behind a rise of ground.

Two other, fiercer, whiter moons, set close together, suddenly top the rise, shoot a fan of blinding platinum far down ahead of them. Headlights. The humming burgeons into a roar. The touring car is going so fast it sways from side to side. The road is straight. The way is long. The night is short. (Jane Brown's Body")”
― Cornell Woolrich, The Fantastic Stories of Cornell Woolrich

“She stares at him, standing with a group of people by the five-metre high chocolate fountain”
― David Wailing, A Splendid Salmagundi

“It was a sort of car that seemed to have a faculty for motion with an absolute lack of any accompanying sound whatsoever.

This was probably illusory; it must have been, internal combustion engines being what they are, tires being what they are, brakes and gears being what they are, even raspy street-surfacing being what it is. Yet the illusion outside the hotel entrance was a complete one. Just as there are silencers that, when affixed to automatic hand-weapons, deaden their reports, so it was as if this whole massive car body were encased in something of that sort. For, first, there was nothing out there, nothing in sight there. Then, as though the street-bed were water and this bulky black shape were a grotesque gondola, it came floating up out of the darkness from nowhere. And then suddenly, still with no sound whatsoever, there it was at a halt, in position.

It was like a ghost-car in every attribute but the visual one. In its trancelike approach and halt, in its lightlessness, in its enshrouded interior, which made it impossible to determine (at least without lowering one's head directly outside the windows
and peering in at nose-tip range) if it were even occupied at all, and if so by whom and by how many.

You could visualize it scuttling fleetly along some overshadowed country lane at dead of night, lightless, inscrutable, unidentifiable, to halt perhaps beside some inky grove of trees, linger there awhile undetected, then glide on again, its unaccountable errand accomplished without witness, without aftermath. A goblin-car that in an earlier age would have fed folklore and rural legend. Or, in the city, you could visualize it sliding stealthily along some warehouse-blacked back alley, curving and squirming in its terrible silence, then, as it neared the mouth and would have emerged, creeping to a stop and lying there in wait, unguessed in the gloom. Lying here in wait for long hours, like some huge metal-cased predatory animal, waiting to pounce on its prey.

Sudden, sharp yellow spurts of fangs, and then to whirl and slink back into anonymity the way it came, leaving the carcass of its prey huddled there and dead.

Who was there to know? Who was there to tell? ("The Number's Up")”
― Cornell Woolrich

“Most people do not realize that they are one car crash away from death.”
― Steven Magee

“Non capisco come in Italia venga proibita la vendita di droga e armi e si lasci invece la libertà agli autogrill di spacciare la loro schifosissima pizza.”
― Carl William Brown, L'Italia in breve.

“(â€�) das mit dem Abholen macht keinen Sinn, wenn du nicht mit dem Auto kommst.”
― Julia Kathrin Knoll, Himmelblau

“Shame control us and our lives, it makes the choices we just state in spec and watch what's doing... as far as now it goes like a bot... auto!”
― Deyth Banger

“Ik rijd al heel mijn leven 300 kilometer per uur en kom nu een ongeval tegen met 30 per uur. Dat is toch godgeklaagd.”
― Jean Pierre Van Rossem

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“B-blackbird ?!!”
― Akio Asakura

“Als kind kreeg ik niet eens een matchbokske van m’n ouders, dat was te duur. Toen ik later op geen frank moest kijken, dacht ik: ‘Potverdomme, ik heb nooit deftig speelgoed gehad. Het wordt tijd dat ik me eens een Ferrari aanschaf.”
― Jean Pierre Van Rossem

“De achterband van de auto ontplofte alsof ze een satéprikker in een ballon had gestoken.”
― Olivier van Os, Te dood voor woorden