Драйв

Судьба вечно отправляет нам послания, а потом усаживается рядом и смеется над нами, глядя, как мы бьемся в бесплодной попытке их расшифровать.

— Что, книжки читаешь? Не подорви здоровье…

-Отлично - это страна, где я давным - давно не бывал.

...только удачливым дана способность забывать.

Гитара, кастаньеты, гармошка. А ведь гармошка прогоняет через себя звуки, как сердечный клапан, пульсируя в такт мелодии. Вдох, выдох, толчок - и выходит песня.

The guy who went in and the one who came out were different people. Something happened in there to change things.

Man had been living in a garage when he and Driver first met. Here he was, still living in a garage. Bigger one, though; Driver’d give him that.

“That’s a lot of getting.”
“That’s ordinary life.”
“I hate ordinary life.”
“You hate everything.”

“I drive. That’s all I do. I don’t sit in while you’re planning the score or while you’re running it down. You tell me where we start, where we’re headed, where we’ll be going afterwards, what time of day. I don’t take part, I don’t know anyone, I don’t carry weapons. I drive.”

One thing he could do, though, was drive. And he drove like a son of a bitch.

Все меняется, ни на что уже нельзя положиться...

— Думаешь, мы сами выбираем себе жизнь?
— Нет. Но и не думаю, что ее нам навязывают. Просто идешь по своему пути.

— Рина всегда укоряла меня в том, что я жду от жизни слишком малого.
— Зато по крайней мере ты никогда не разочаруешься.

Driver didn’t know what happened, but the movie never got released. Something about rights maybe, or some other legal issue, could be any one of a hundred problems. Most things that start out to be movies don’t ever get made. They’d had this one in the can, though, and it was good.
Go figure.

Someone tapped his shoulder.
“Doc? You’re Doc, aren’t you?”
Ignore him.
“Of course you are. Buy you a drink?”
Maybe not ignore him.

Halfway into his first beer he found himself in a political discussion with the man sitting next to him.

“You’re dripping on my welcome mat.”
“You don’t have a welcome mat.”
“No-but I used to. A nice one. Then people somehow started getting the notion I meant it.”

Catalinas to the north, Santa Rita to the south, Rincon east, Tucson west. The whole city was a compass. How could anyone ever have gotten so hopelessly lost here?

Driver remembered once hearing a jazz musician claim that waltz time was the closest thing to the rhythm of the human heart.

Life sends us messages all the time-then sits around laughing over how we’re not gonna be able to figure them out.