Harry:
"What kind of driver are you going to find after the season's started? Some old boy who's washed up, and wasn't worth a shit to begin with."
Tim Daland:
"And Harry, I know you're great, you know you're great, but if the guy in the car doesn't trust you, we're never gonna win a damn race."
Harry:
"You done it deliberate... done it deliberate! Nine thousand, four hundred RPM... according to the little tell-tale button."
NASCAR Official:
"Hey! You can't do that, that's not your car."
Tim Daland:
"It's my engine in that car, I gave them that engine and that's what my boys are pushing."
Dr. Lewicki:
"You and Rowdy have the same sickness, it's called denial and it's probably going to kill you both."
Harry:
"Now Cole, when that little needle goes up into the red and reads *nine thousand RPM*, that's bad!"
Tim Daland:
"I had sponsors in the stands, we were hugging and holding hands, praying for good showing and what do we do? We end up looking like a monkey fucking a football out there. Everybody out, please, except you two."
Harry:
"Drivers can't stand to be reminded of what can happen to 'em in a racecar. They, they don't go to hospitals, they don't go to funerals. You get a driver to a funeral before he's actually dead, you've made history, darlin'."
Harry:
"Tim, take a look at that hound. That's the best coon-dog I ever seen or heard about and I didn't to teach him a damn thing."
Harry:
"I'm settin' you up for cool weather... but if that sun breaks, after you're out on the track, you're liable to get real loose real quick. Now I don't wanna worry you or nothin, but, Cole's not ready for that... he's changed, see, he's changed. You cannot get out of control and expect him to bring you right back. He's liable to hurt you, you're liable to hurt him, and... I couldn't handle that, so, ah, you've gotta take care of him... see... you gotta take care of him."
Tim Daland:
"I had sponsors in from all over the coast and I'm hugging, and holding hands, and praying for a good showin'. And what do we do? We end up looking like a monkey fucking a football out there. Everybody out, please."
Harry:
"I'm gonna give you an engine low to the ground... extra thick oil pan to cut the wind from underneath you. It'll give you thirty or forty more horsepower. I'm gonna give you a fuel line that'll hold an extra gallon of gas. I'm gonna shave half an inch off you and shape you like a bullet. I'll get you primed, painted and weighed, and you'll be ready to go out on that racetrack. Hear me? You're gonna be perfect."
Buck:
"Well how 'bout that, a side we don't have to fix."
Harry:
"I don't want you spoiled, Buck."
Tim Daland:
"He's destroyed both my cars. He destroyed both my cars. He's fired. You're fired. You're all fired."
Dr. Lewicki:
"Control is an illusion, you infantile egomaniac. Nobody knows what's gonna happen next: not on a freeway, not in an airplane, not inside our own bodies and certainly not on a racetrack with 40 other infantile egomaniacs."
Harry:
"Cole, you're wandering all over the track!"
Cole:
"Yeah, well this son of a bitch just slammed into me."
Harry:
"No, no, he didn't slam you, he didn't bump you, he didn't nudge you... he *rubbed* you. And rubbin, son, is racin'."
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