When cars honk and hoot and drunks squeeze out of car windows and scream, you can be sure that football is in the air.
I would never kill a living thing, although I probably have inadvertently while driving automobiles.
I wasn't going to get such a nice car - I was going to get a cute little hybrid or something, keep the trees happy - but then my grandfather died, and it was all: retail therapy!
A car to pick me up every day, a chair with my name on it, everybody being very polite... what can you do except sit back and watch it all, try to take it all in?
Even though it's hard to learn how to back your car out the driveway at first, once it becomes a habit, you can do it almost automatically and think about something else, like the meeting that you need to go to today or what's on the radio.
You want to make sure this particular car is going to please the customer and then you're going to be rewarded with something that is going to please the shareholder.
We have some worse scenarios for which we need to prepare as companies. For the moment, we're planning for the worst, and the worst is now, and the car market is down more than 15 percent in France. There is so much uncertainty.
The hardest part was when I was in high school not having a job and always being broke. I had to get to auditions without a car. I either took the bus or walked.
I'm constantly saying that I have bad hair days when I'm in New York. It's so hard. I've been lucky enough to jump immediately into a car, head straight to the location, and stay in the air-conditioning.
I haven't really had any experiences, as far as having paparazzi sit outside of my house or following me around on the street. But, I actually don't really go to places where they do that, unless they knew where I lived or what kind of car I drive.
It was 100 feet of 16 mm black-and-white film of a car coming to a stop sign, and driving off. I had to decide how to frame and light it. It was magic. There was a sense of mystery.
I hate modern car radios. In my car, I don't even have a push-button radio. It's just got a dial and two knobs. Just AM. One knob makes it louder, and one knob changes the station. When you're driving, that's all I want.
The '65 Impala is pretty much me as a car.
I got a car when I was 16. I didn't even have a driver's license.
So I did in fact spend two and a half years in the Middlesbrough car park practising skills. But if you spend four or five or six hours a day practising, you get better.
My team fills two separate drink bottles for me in the car. One is water, and the other has orange juice. I just turn a valve and go from water to juice... to adjust my glucose levels.
You don't get a mix of ovals and road/street course racing with this level of competition and speed anywhere other than Indy Car, and I think that's why it has remained a popular choice for so many young drivers.
Racing is what I live for, and it makes my world go around. Having said that, without the support of the diabetes community, I may not have gotten back into the race car after my diagnosis in October 2007.
As the son of a racing car designer and mechanical engineer, I was exposed to motorsports from day one.
When I turned 16, I got my driver's license like the rest of my classmates, but I also got an extra present: a two-day practice session in a Formula Ford: my first open-wheel racing car and the first step on the ladder toward becoming a professional ...
My dirty little secret is I don't drive at all, though I have my license and I renew it every five years. I'm phobic. I keep worrying if I drive, I'll end up killing someone. I hoped that by writing about a car crash, I might understand and heal this...
