What I like, or one of the things I like, about motoring is the sense it gives one of lighting accidentally, like a voyager who touches another planet with the tip of his toe, upon scenes which would have gone on, have always gone on, will go on, unrecorded, save for this chance glimpse. Then it seems to me I am allowed to see the heart of the world uncovered for a moment.

A car can massage organs which no masseur can reach. It is the one remedy for the disorders of the great sympathetic nervous system.

The car has become an article of dress without which we feel uncertain, unclad, and incomplete.

The car has become the carapace, the protective and aggressive shell, of urban and suburban man.