Del: You could kill a man like that, hitting him in the stomach. That's how Houdini died you know.
Del: Yay! Neal has a song... go ahead Neal...
Neal: Three coins in the fountain... one diff-
Del: Flinstones... meet the Flintstones... they're the modern stone age family.
State Trooper: What the hell are you driving here?
Del: We had a small fire last night, but we caught it in the nick of time.
State Trooper: Do you have any idea how fast you were going?
Del: Funny enough, I was just talking to my friend about that. Our speedometer has melted and as a result it's very hard to see with any degree of accuracy exactly how fast we were going.
Bus Lover: Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer.
Owen: Her first baby came out sideways, she didn't scream or nothin.
Del: I haven't been home in years.
Del: If they told you wolverines would make good house pets, would you believe them?
Del: I guess this is probably a good time as any to tell you this. Our tickets are only good to St. Louis. St. Louis to Chi-town is booked tighter than Tom Thumb's ass.
Del: Was that seat hot or what? I feel like a Whopper. Turn me over, I'm done on this side. I'm afraid to look at my ass. There'll be griddle marks.
Del: Six bucks and my left nut says we're not going to be landing in Chicago.
Del: I didn't introduce myself. Del Griffith. American Light and Fixture, Sales Director, shower curtain ring division.
Neal: Let me close this conversation by saying that you are one unique individual.
Del: Unique... what's that, Latin for "asshole"?
Del: I've never seen a guy get picked up by his testicles before. Lucky for you that cop passed by when he did, or you'd be lifting your snutz to tie your shoes.
Del: Six bucks and my right nut says we're not landing in Chicago.
Neal: Eh, look, I don't want to be rude, but I'm not much of a conversationalist, and I really want to finish this article, a friend of mine wrote it, so.
Del: Don't let me stand in your way, please don't let me stand in your way. The last thing I want to be remembered as is an annoying blabbermouth... You know, nothing grinds my gears worse than some chowderhead that doesn't know when to keep his big trap shut... If you catch me running off with my mouth, just give me a poke on the chubbs.
Del: You play with your balls a lot.
Neal: I do not play with my balls.
Del: Larry Bird doesn't do as much ball-handling in one night as you do in an hour.
Neal: Are you trying to start a fight?
Del: No. I'm simply stating a fact. That's all. You fidget with your nuts a lot.
Neal: You know what'd make me happy?
Del: Another couple of balls, and an extra set of fingers?