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The Love Bug (1968)
Carole:
Help, I'm a prisoner! I can't get out!
Van Hippy: We all prisoners, chickee-baby. We all locked in.
[looks over at his hippy partner]
Van Hippy: Huh, a couple of weirdos, Guenivere.
Jim Douglas: Without a real car, I'm only half a man.
Mr. Thorndyke: I salute your honesty, my dear, a quality not necessarily to be despised.
Jim Douglas: Why is it the only food we have in this house is parrot food? We don't have a parrot.
Tennessee Steinmetz: Eat that! That's good. That's pressed kelp. That aerates your liver.
[Tenessee's car is gone]
Jim Douglas: Where's the beast? You didn't cut up the Edsel!
[the Edsel grill is hanging on a rack with many cut up car parts]
Tennessee Steinmetz: Came over me all of a sudden. Seemed like the only decent thing do. Believe me, Jim, it'll be happier up there.
[Jim suddenly bursts into laughter]
Jim Douglas: What do you know? The engine stalled.
Carole: [tries to get out] How about that? The door's stuck. That's how it is with cars sometimes. I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens next.
Jim Douglas: Well, as someone very wisely once said, "That's how it is with cars sometimes."
Carole: I just said that.
Jim Douglas: Oh.
Mr. Thorndyke: Havershaw, I'm not a cowardly man, but I get the feeling that thing is out to get me.
Havershaw: Now now, sir, none of that. We're not losing our nerve are we?
Mr. Thorndyke: [bellowing] BLAST you, Havershaw! How dare you patronize me! I am not losing my nerve!
Havershaw: No sir. No sir, of course not.
Jim Douglas: You don't understand what happens, do you? They make ten thousand cars, they make them exactly the same way, and one or two of 'em turn out to be something special. Nobody knows why.
Jim Douglas: I may be kidding myself, but I think I can make something out of that sad little bucket of bolts.
[Thorndyke kicks not-yet-named "Herbie" the little white car in his shop]
Jim Douglas: What's that for?
Mr. Thorndyke: I beg your pardon!
Jim Douglas: Well, why don't you let the little car alone?
Mr. Thorndyke: Are you presuming to tell me what to do in my own establishment?
Jim Douglas: Ok, I'm out of line. It just bugs me to see somebody abusing a decent piece of machinery.
Jim Douglas: Has everybody gone nuts around here? I can understand how Tennessee feels, he's just in off a flying saucer.
Carole: I wonder if your reputation is altogether true.
Jim Douglas: What's my reputation?
Carole: Oh, I've heard that Jim Douglas is only interested in fast cars and easy money.
Jim Douglas: Not true.
Carole: Oh?
Jim Douglas: Mm-hmm. You know something else?
Carole: What?
Jim Douglas: When the light hits you just right, you're as beautiful as General Grant on a $50 bill.
Mr. Thorndyke: Good evening.
Tennessee Steinmetz: Sorry, the other rats are out for the evening!
Mr. Thorndyke: What part of Ireland did you say your mother came from?
Tennessee Steinmetz: Coney, Ireland.
[laughs drunkenly]
Mr. Thorndyke: At a time like this, whatever kind of time it is, I always say money serves to ease the pain.
[Jim brings the malfunctioning Herbie back to Thorndyke. It accidentally bangs against Thorndyke's Rolls Royce and stops. Jim gets out]
Mr. Thorndyke: Have you gone mad?
Jim Douglas: Okay, what's the joke?
Mr. Thorndyke: What do you mean?
Jim Douglas: I don't know how you rigged it, but I'm sure that car is a real cut-up when a convention comes to town.
Mr. Thorndyke: What in the name of...
Jim Douglas: If I'd wanted a trick car, I would have bought one at a joke shop.
Mr. Thorndyke: Allow me to say that I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.
[Carole joins him]
Mr. Thorndyke: You come billowing up in that beastly little car, and assault my personal Rolls Royce.
Jim Douglas: [stammering] I brought it back. I want my money, I want the papers I signed, and then I'll get outta here, and you two clowns can have your little laugh.
Carole: Mr. Douglas, if there is anything wrong with the car, would you be good enough to tell me what it is?
Jim Douglas: Well, there's nothing essentially wrong with the car. It's just that it wants to go one way and I'd like to go the other.
Mr. Thorndyke: Well, whatever it is, none of it is covered in our guilt-headed guarantee.
Jim Douglas: Oh, I'm sure of that.
Mr. Thorndyke: If you'll examine paragraph twelve...
Carole: Excuse me, Mr. Thorndyke, but if I sold this gentleman a car, I feel a certain responsibility.
[to Jim]
Carole: Do you mind if I try it?
Jim Douglas: [he gestures for her to go ahead, and he and Carole head over to Herbie]
Mr. Thorndyke: [shocked] Miss Bennett! Our dinner engagement!
Carole: I won't be a minute.
Mr. Thorndyke: [to Jim, about Herbie] Good sir, would you say this is a compact car?
[Jim stares]
Mr. Thorndyke: You do not answer. Well, let me tell you that you've never heard of a compact until you see what I'm going to do with this. Mr. Douglas, I have a friend with a "claw-and-hook auto wrecking company" in San Francisco, and he's going to work on your car. Maybe he'll transform it into a birdbath. Or what about a nice doormat, so I can wipe my feet on it everyday. It's too bad this thing doesn't have the gumption to get up to the starting line this morning. I should have enjoyed beating it.
[kicks Herbie again, and Tennessee lets out this loud shrieking grunt]
Jim Douglas: [on the phone] Yeah, yeah, Thorndyke. I know what you did to my car. You need your brains kicked out.
Bice: You used to be a big track driver, ain't you got no pride?
Jim Douglas: I ran out of pride when I ran out of cars.
Tennessee Steinmetz: [holding a pot full of coffee while using a welding iron to fire it up, and wearing big gloves] The trick is always remember to have asbestos gloves when you make coffee this way.
Mr. Wu: I think now is chance to remove egg fu yung off of face.
Carole: [Herbie is acting up] Will you stop the car please?
Jim Douglas: I'm trying! Look!
[he tries to take the key out and press the brakes]
Jim Douglas: It's just like I told you! This thing is starting to act up again.
Carole: How very odd. When I was driving, there was no problem whatsoever!
Tennessee Steinmetz: Jim, it's happening right under our noses and we can't see it. We take machines and we stuff 'em with information until they're smarter than we are. Take a car. Most guys spread more love and time and money on their car in a week than they do on their wife and kids in a year. Pretty soon, you know what? The machine starts to think it *is* somebody.
Carole: Have you had much experience with cars?
Jim Douglas: Look, lady, by profession, I'm a racing driver.
Carole: Oh, THAT Jim Douglas.
Jim Douglas: What do you mean, "THAT Jim Douglas"?
Carole: Let's see, two years ago, at Laguna Seca, you spun out and hung a beautiful Buick Special on the back fence. At Willow Springs, a year ago last February, you sprayed a Lotus all over the infield.
Jim Douglas: How do you know all that?
Carole: I have trouble with names and faces, but I never forget a car.
Tennessee Steinmetz: Herbie's all right.
Jim Douglas: Who's Herbie?
Tennessee Steinmetz: This little car. Named after my Uncle Herb. He used to box middleweight. Preliminary, mostly. Gradually, his nose got shaped more and more like to remind me of this little car. Do you mind?
Jim Douglas: Whatever you say, Tennessee.
Tennessee Steinmetz: [to Jim] I'm not saying a mechanical thing, it can't be a friend. I was broke one summer, and there was this giant claw machine in the Sutro amusement park, and it would grab cameras and watches and drop 'em down a hole to me, and I would hock 'em and buy lunch. You follow me?
Jim Douglas: Yeah, yeah. I think you were up on that mountaintop too long.
Tennessee Steinmetz: Contrariwise, the traffic light down the street hates my guts. I don't know why, but in the last six months, I haven't caught anything but a stop signal. And it makes me wait six seconds longer than anybody else! I timed it! Those things like that happen to lots of other people, too, but the other people, they don't tell no other people, because the other people, they'd say, "Hey-ey-ey-ey-ey."
Jim Douglas: Tennessee, that traffic light is a lot of nuts and bolts. This little car, a lot of nuts and bolts. Everything explains itself one way or the other.
[a police car drives up as Jim stops Herbie from driving off the Golden Gate Bridge with Jim winding up on the car's hood]
Policeman on Bridge: [examining Jim's tired body on Herbie's hood] Boy, was he lucky. This little car saved his life.
Policeman on bridge: What do you mean the car saved his life?
Policeman on Bridge: Well, that's what it looked like for a moment there. I...
[laughs]
Policeman on Bridge: You know how funny things look in the fog sometimes?
Policeman on bridge: I think you've been up on that Haight-Ashbury beat too long.
Carole: You aren't winning any of those races! You couldn't win a game of marbles against a 12-toed myopic rhinoceros!
Mr. Thorndyke: My personal inclination is to have Mr. Douglas clapped into jail... and this four-wheeled contrivance dropped into the Bay!
[during the big race, Thorndyke's car bumps Herbie off the road and down a hill]
Havershaw: What happened to it?
Mr. Thorndyke: I'd say it went for that last big lube job up yonder.
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Van Hippy: We all prisoners, chickee-baby. We all locked in.
[looks over at his hippy partner]
Van Hippy: Huh, a couple of weirdos, Guenivere.
Jim Douglas: Without a real car, I'm only half a man.
Mr. Thorndyke: I salute your honesty, my dear, a quality not necessarily to be despised.
Jim Douglas: Why is it the only food we have in this house is parrot food? We don't have a parrot.
Tennessee Steinmetz: Eat that! That's good. That's pressed kelp. That aerates your liver.
[Tenessee's car is gone]
Jim Douglas: Where's the beast? You didn't cut up the Edsel!
[the Edsel grill is hanging on a rack with many cut up car parts]
Tennessee Steinmetz: Came over me all of a sudden. Seemed like the only decent thing do. Believe me, Jim, it'll be happier up there.
[Jim suddenly bursts into laughter]
Jim Douglas: What do you know? The engine stalled.
Carole: [tries to get out] How about that? The door's stuck. That's how it is with cars sometimes. I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens next.
Jim Douglas: Well, as someone very wisely once said, "That's how it is with cars sometimes."
Carole: I just said that.
Jim Douglas: Oh.
Mr. Thorndyke: Havershaw, I'm not a cowardly man, but I get the feeling that thing is out to get me.
Havershaw: Now now, sir, none of that. We're not losing our nerve are we?
Mr. Thorndyke: [bellowing] BLAST you, Havershaw! How dare you patronize me! I am not losing my nerve!
Havershaw: No sir. No sir, of course not.
Jim Douglas: You don't understand what happens, do you? They make ten thousand cars, they make them exactly the same way, and one or two of 'em turn out to be something special. Nobody knows why.
Jim Douglas: I may be kidding myself, but I think I can make something out of that sad little bucket of bolts.
[Thorndyke kicks not-yet-named "Herbie" the little white car in his shop]
Jim Douglas: What's that for?
Mr. Thorndyke: I beg your pardon!
Jim Douglas: Well, why don't you let the little car alone?
Mr. Thorndyke: Are you presuming to tell me what to do in my own establishment?
Jim Douglas: Ok, I'm out of line. It just bugs me to see somebody abusing a decent piece of machinery.
Jim Douglas: Has everybody gone nuts around here? I can understand how Tennessee feels, he's just in off a flying saucer.
Carole: I wonder if your reputation is altogether true.
Jim Douglas: What's my reputation?
Carole: Oh, I've heard that Jim Douglas is only interested in fast cars and easy money.
Jim Douglas: Not true.
Carole: Oh?
Jim Douglas: Mm-hmm. You know something else?
Carole: What?
Jim Douglas: When the light hits you just right, you're as beautiful as General Grant on a $50 bill.
Mr. Thorndyke: Good evening.
Tennessee Steinmetz: Sorry, the other rats are out for the evening!
Mr. Thorndyke: What part of Ireland did you say your mother came from?
Tennessee Steinmetz: Coney, Ireland.
[laughs drunkenly]
Mr. Thorndyke: At a time like this, whatever kind of time it is, I always say money serves to ease the pain.
[Jim brings the malfunctioning Herbie back to Thorndyke. It accidentally bangs against Thorndyke's Rolls Royce and stops. Jim gets out]
Mr. Thorndyke: Have you gone mad?
Jim Douglas: Okay, what's the joke?
Mr. Thorndyke: What do you mean?
Jim Douglas: I don't know how you rigged it, but I'm sure that car is a real cut-up when a convention comes to town.
Mr. Thorndyke: What in the name of...
Jim Douglas: If I'd wanted a trick car, I would have bought one at a joke shop.
Mr. Thorndyke: Allow me to say that I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.
[Carole joins him]
Mr. Thorndyke: You come billowing up in that beastly little car, and assault my personal Rolls Royce.
Jim Douglas: [stammering] I brought it back. I want my money, I want the papers I signed, and then I'll get outta here, and you two clowns can have your little laugh.
Carole: Mr. Douglas, if there is anything wrong with the car, would you be good enough to tell me what it is?
Jim Douglas: Well, there's nothing essentially wrong with the car. It's just that it wants to go one way and I'd like to go the other.
Mr. Thorndyke: Well, whatever it is, none of it is covered in our guilt-headed guarantee.
Jim Douglas: Oh, I'm sure of that.
Mr. Thorndyke: If you'll examine paragraph twelve...
Carole: Excuse me, Mr. Thorndyke, but if I sold this gentleman a car, I feel a certain responsibility.
[to Jim]
Carole: Do you mind if I try it?
Jim Douglas: [he gestures for her to go ahead, and he and Carole head over to Herbie]
Mr. Thorndyke: [shocked] Miss Bennett! Our dinner engagement!
Carole: I won't be a minute.
Mr. Thorndyke: [to Jim, about Herbie] Good sir, would you say this is a compact car?
[Jim stares]
Mr. Thorndyke: You do not answer. Well, let me tell you that you've never heard of a compact until you see what I'm going to do with this. Mr. Douglas, I have a friend with a "claw-and-hook auto wrecking company" in San Francisco, and he's going to work on your car. Maybe he'll transform it into a birdbath. Or what about a nice doormat, so I can wipe my feet on it everyday. It's too bad this thing doesn't have the gumption to get up to the starting line this morning. I should have enjoyed beating it.
[kicks Herbie again, and Tennessee lets out this loud shrieking grunt]
Jim Douglas: [on the phone] Yeah, yeah, Thorndyke. I know what you did to my car. You need your brains kicked out.
Bice: You used to be a big track driver, ain't you got no pride?
Jim Douglas: I ran out of pride when I ran out of cars.
Tennessee Steinmetz: [holding a pot full of coffee while using a welding iron to fire it up, and wearing big gloves] The trick is always remember to have asbestos gloves when you make coffee this way.
Mr. Wu: I think now is chance to remove egg fu yung off of face.
Carole: [Herbie is acting up] Will you stop the car please?
Jim Douglas: I'm trying! Look!
[he tries to take the key out and press the brakes]
Jim Douglas: It's just like I told you! This thing is starting to act up again.
Carole: How very odd. When I was driving, there was no problem whatsoever!
Tennessee Steinmetz: Jim, it's happening right under our noses and we can't see it. We take machines and we stuff 'em with information until they're smarter than we are. Take a car. Most guys spread more love and time and money on their car in a week than they do on their wife and kids in a year. Pretty soon, you know what? The machine starts to think it *is* somebody.
Carole: Have you had much experience with cars?
Jim Douglas: Look, lady, by profession, I'm a racing driver.
Carole: Oh, THAT Jim Douglas.
Jim Douglas: What do you mean, "THAT Jim Douglas"?
Carole: Let's see, two years ago, at Laguna Seca, you spun out and hung a beautiful Buick Special on the back fence. At Willow Springs, a year ago last February, you sprayed a Lotus all over the infield.
Jim Douglas: How do you know all that?
Carole: I have trouble with names and faces, but I never forget a car.
Tennessee Steinmetz: Herbie's all right.
Jim Douglas: Who's Herbie?
Tennessee Steinmetz: This little car. Named after my Uncle Herb. He used to box middleweight. Preliminary, mostly. Gradually, his nose got shaped more and more like to remind me of this little car. Do you mind?
Jim Douglas: Whatever you say, Tennessee.
Tennessee Steinmetz: [to Jim] I'm not saying a mechanical thing, it can't be a friend. I was broke one summer, and there was this giant claw machine in the Sutro amusement park, and it would grab cameras and watches and drop 'em down a hole to me, and I would hock 'em and buy lunch. You follow me?
Jim Douglas: Yeah, yeah. I think you were up on that mountaintop too long.
Tennessee Steinmetz: Contrariwise, the traffic light down the street hates my guts. I don't know why, but in the last six months, I haven't caught anything but a stop signal. And it makes me wait six seconds longer than anybody else! I timed it! Those things like that happen to lots of other people, too, but the other people, they don't tell no other people, because the other people, they'd say, "Hey-ey-ey-ey-ey."
Jim Douglas: Tennessee, that traffic light is a lot of nuts and bolts. This little car, a lot of nuts and bolts. Everything explains itself one way or the other.
[a police car drives up as Jim stops Herbie from driving off the Golden Gate Bridge with Jim winding up on the car's hood]
Policeman on Bridge: [examining Jim's tired body on Herbie's hood] Boy, was he lucky. This little car saved his life.
Policeman on bridge: What do you mean the car saved his life?
Policeman on Bridge: Well, that's what it looked like for a moment there. I...
[laughs]
Policeman on Bridge: You know how funny things look in the fog sometimes?
Policeman on bridge: I think you've been up on that Haight-Ashbury beat too long.
Carole: You aren't winning any of those races! You couldn't win a game of marbles against a 12-toed myopic rhinoceros!
Mr. Thorndyke: My personal inclination is to have Mr. Douglas clapped into jail... and this four-wheeled contrivance dropped into the Bay!
[during the big race, Thorndyke's car bumps Herbie off the road and down a hill]
Havershaw: What happened to it?
Mr. Thorndyke: I'd say it went for that last big lube job up yonder.
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