This is my car.

This is my car.

This car is mine.

My car is German.

Where is my car?

My car is German.

I had my car stolen last night.

I'll find my car on my own.

That's not my car.

( This is my new car.

I had my car stolen last night.

I had my car stolen last night.

Leave my car alone.

Look at my new car.

What does she think about my car?

Could I park my car here?

My car is equipped with a CD player.

You almost crashed into my car.

My car burns a lot of gas.

Nobody wants to look for my car.

And eventually she said to him Well I'm going to get back in my car.

I'm back in my truck, and we drove over the Brooklyn Bridge.

22 September 2004 In town, without my car!

The first day, it took me 15 mins to find parking.

I ran out of gasoline on the way.

I can hear them sing the sounds of the car alarms like they were songs of spring.

Yesterday, it took me around 30 mins to find a spot and it was all the way next to IKEA.

And one of my favorites has always been, Make love to your man in a Chevy van, because that was my vehicle when I was in college.

I always drove motorcycles. And when I bought my first car, it shocked me that it cost three times more than my parents' house. Interesting.

The first national campaign was inaugurated in Britain by the Environmental Transport Association in 1997, the French followed suit in 1998 as In town, without my car!

And I was driving home from work, and a truck was coming the opposite direction, came over into my lane, ran over the top of my car and his axle tore my arm off.

Unlike the smashed glass of my car, plasticity of the brain means that there was always a possibility, with treatment, to train the brain so that you can regain and raise your level of awareness and consciousness.

I thought about writing this post as I was walking under the direct sun, when the temperature was 45 degrees Celsius, after dropping my car at the garage for repairs.

And when the heat made me too sick to walk the 50 feet to the public restroom outside my van at night, I used a bucket and a trash bag as a toilet.

It's not that high in some areas, like Queenstown for example, but I am not driving out there when I can't tell where the canals end and the road begins.

I drove in the papal cavalcade along the motorway from Edinburgh, where Benedict met Queen Elizabeth, to Glasgow, where he celebrated an open air mass.

As I drive to downtown Chicago, I pass a series of high rise housing projects, meant in their time to be the miracle cure for homelessness, poverty, unemployment, and crime.

On the scale of my portion of the house, this is equivalent to about as much as I drive in a year, it's about five times as much as if I went entirely vegetarian.

I looked in vain for a political nominee, a political intellectual, economic expert, renowned lawyer, university professor or an activist in human rights or democracy until my patience and the fuel in my car ran out. I don't know who to vote for in my constituency and I don't think I will be able to make a hasty decision.

I think that's the reason there is as much tolerance toward nationalities, ethnicities, religions as there is today. If you asked me, you know, why am I not in favor of bombing Japan, well, I'm only half joking when I say they built my car.

I got bored and left, and as I drove out, I drove past the slums of Bombay, as you always do, and I saw lines and lines in the hot midday sun of women and children with buckets waiting for a tanker to come and give them water.

The result is that other people become more valuable alive than dead, and violence declines for selfish reasons. As Wright put it, Among the many reasons that I think that we should not bomb the Japanese is that they built my mini van.

But, once again, people there told me about an ongoing real estate bubble, and my driver showed me around the seaside resort town of Cartagena, pointing out, with a tone of amazement, several homes that had recently sold for millions of dollars.

My destination was the Hotel Royale in Évian les Bains. It was there, in July 1938, that 32 nations met for a shameful discussion that has been virtually airbrushed from our memory.

This morning, on September 27, 2008, a huge explosion shook the Syrian capital Damascus, about 200 metres away from my car which I was riding from the Sayida Zainab area towards Damascus.