Every new car, you open the door, and you look at all those internal mellifluous swoopy bits, and they have no meaning.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I don't really know much about cars.
Buying a car used to be an experience so soul-scorching, so confidence-splattering, so existentially rattling that an entire car company was based on the promise that you wouldn't have to come in contact with it.
I will argue that in the literal sense the programmed computer understands what the car and the adding machine understand, namely, exactly nothing.
Some people really like to have an open car that lets them see everything. Of course, others want the squinty, protected feeling of something like the Chrysler 300.
A man's car is like an extension of their ego and their manhood.
I've always been a bit of a car freak.
I think cars encapsulate the history of innovation and style - it's the other side of the coin of the car being public enemy No.1.
Car love is the sound of a throaty V-8 rumbling and revving, the acceleration throwing you back in the seat - especially when you get on a beautiful, winding road and the light's dappling through the trees.
A new car is not going to change your life.
'Cars' is simply near and dear to my heart.