Tennessee Steinmetz: Well then, if everything you say about this car is true, it's already starting to happen.
Jim Douglas: What's starting to happen?
TS: Us human beings--we had a chance to make something out of this world. We blew it.
JD: Okay.
TS: Another kind of civilization is gonna take a turn.
JD: Give me an -mil wrench.
TS: I'm sitting up on top of this mountain, right?
JD: Right.
TS: I'm surrounded by these gurus and swamis and monks, right?
JD: Right.
TS: I'm lookin' at my stomach.
JD: Yeah.
TS: I'm knockin' back a little rice wine.
JD: Um-hmm.
TS: Got some contemplation goin'; I see things like they are. I coulda told you all this was comin'.
JD: What's coming?
TS: Jim, it's happening right under our noses and we can't see it. We take machines and 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. I'm not saying a mechanical thing can't be a friend. Like, when I was broke one summer, there was this giant claw machine in the Sutro Amusement Park. It would grab cameras and watches and drop them down a hole to me. And I would hock 'em and buy lunch. You follow me?
JD: Yeah. I think you were up on that mountaintop too long.
TS: Contrariwise, the traffic light down the street hates my guts. I don't know why. But in the last six weeks I haven't caught anything but a stop signal. It makes me wait six seconds longer than anybody else! I timed it!
JD: Things like that happen to lots of other people too.
TS: But the other people don't tell no other people because the other people would say, "Hey-ey-ey-ey. Tennessee, that traffic light is a lot of nuts and bolts."
JD: This little car is a lot of nuts and bolts. Everything explains itself, one way or the other.
TS: You're not listenin' to me.
JD: Don't lose your grip, old buddy. This little car didn't do one thing tonight that can't be explained in terms of short circuits, sprung doors, grabbing steering, worn knuckles, maybe some advertising gimmick. I'll fix it.
TS: I don't think you got the picture.
JD: I got a beautiful picture. This baby happens to have an extra turn of speed, which is the only thing I care about. You don't understand what happens, do you? They make cars. They make 'em exactly the same way. One or two of 'em turn out to be something special. Nobody knows why.
TS: I know why.
JD: I may be kiddin' myself, but I think I can make somethin' out of that sad little bucket of bolts.
