Rebel:Ay? Sounds like she's got a wobble in the bottom end.
Rebel:[sitting in the garage with Mike's trashed Falcon]Gimme a go, Mike... let me fix your car for you.
Mike:[knowing he can't afford to pay Rebel]Mmm, couldn't do that, mate.
Rebel:No, I mean really fix it... make her fly! She's a 351, right? I've got some nitrous oxide injection 'round that's a sweet sensation.
Rebel:[Mike's trying to drive the '57 Chev, but not very well]You're puttin' on the agony, mate, but you're missin' all the style!