I am so obsessed with the cars that sometimes I feel like my heart is not a muscle, it's an engine.

I grew up on the back of a motorcycle - my dad didn't have a car until I was a teenager.

Not everyone understands what a completely rational process this is, this maintenance of a motorcycle. They think it's some kind of 'knack' or some kind of 'affinity for machines' in operation. They are right, but the knack is almost purely a process of reason, and most of the troubles are caused by what old time radio men called a 'short between the earphones,' failures to use the head properly. A motorcycle functions entirely in accordance with the laws of reason, and a study of the art of motorcycle maintenance is really a miniature study of the art of rationality itself.

People are more violently opposed to fur than leather because it's safer to harass rich women than motorcycle gangs.

Take care of your car in the garage, and the car will take care of you on the road.

There is a delicate ridge one must ride between fear and reason on a motorcycle—lean too far in either direction and there will be consequences.

I don’t want to go home yet.” He twisted at the waist and patted the seat behind him. “Take a walk on the wild side with me.

Something that sounded like ripping metal shredded the deadly quiet. The inaudible bass smoothed into a low, steady hum. Outside, a low, mechanical growl rumbled closer and closer. Darius caught his breath. He knew that sound, and it wasn't magic.It was a motorcycle.

Riding a motorcycle on today's highways, you have to ride in a very defensive manner. You have to be a good rider and you have to have both hands and both feet on the controls at all times.

You're the Baba Yaga?' He gazed at her in disbelief. 'But the Baba Yaga is an ugly old crone, and you're, you're... Not!