Whatever the geeks are doing in their garage on weekends is what the entire earth will be doing 20 years later as a mainstream thing.

I make love like I make coffins—with my bare hands, alone in my garage. On sale through Thursday—Buy One Funeral, Get A Second One Free!

I’m not a bicycle. Don’t try to ride me and leave me in the garage. I’m a treadmill. Walk on me and leave me in a guest room.

I want a house with a garage, so someone from the government won’t try to park a tank in my living room.

You can’t become a famous garage band if you never perform outside your garage. That’s why my band plays in my driveway.

I believe men belong in the garage, because that’s where the dog food is stored. And the band is kept there. Auditions start after I move the car.

I wish I could bottle up my penis and sell it at a garage sale. But first I need to get a garage.

I’d like to own my own garage and my own fishery. I’d also like to be a professional fisherman. But I’ll take whatever happens.