Tim: I've always told you guys, fists don't accomplish anything. You can get Vinnie McGurn back at his own game.
Randy: What are you talking about?
Tim: Challenge him to another race.
Randy: Dad, there's no way I can beat Vinnie. He has that new sled - the bullet-nosed downhill racer.
Tim: But you got The Tool Man. I think we can turn this old jalopy into a speed demon. It's light, it's got a classic design. Maybe put a spoiler on the front of that for airflow. I'll take the burrs off these runners, sand this thing down, bevel the edge, put a shine on there. This'll be smoother than butter on a baby's butt. [grunts]
Brad: I hate those guys.
Tim: Let it go, will ya? Just let it go.

Brad: Hey, Randy, did you test out the sled?
Randy: Yeah.
Brad: Was Dad's spoiler cool?
Randy: Yeah. I was going so fast, I think I missed my next birthday.
Brad: Dang, that's fast.
Randy: Ahh.
Brad: What happened to your wrist?
Randy: Well, when I hit Dead Man's Curve, my sled went one way and my wrist went another - right into a tree. Ahh.
Brad: Well, is the sled OK?
Randy: Yes. Thanks for caring.

Tim: Hi.
Jill: Bye!
Tim: Boy, we lead fast-paced lives.

Tim: What's the matter?
Randy: I had a little run-in with a tree.
Tim: Who started it?
Randy: The tree.

Tim: I just did it because the McGurns' father bought them this downhill bullet-nosed racer.
Jill: So what?
Tim: So... Randy challenged 'em to a race.
Jill: That was a stupid thing to do.
Tim: Not quite as stupid as what he originally planned.
Jill: Which was?
Tim: He was gonna hire some kid that hits himself in the face to fight Vinnie McGurn with him.
Jill: Troy?

Jill: I wanna talk to you about that. I don't think you should do this race on Saturday.
Randy: Mom, I have to. My wrist is gonna be fine. Even the doctor said so.
Jill: Well, I just think the combination of that hill, that sled and your father is too dangerous.

Jill: I'm gonna say something to you that I thought that I would never say to any of my kids.
Randy: What?
Jill: Kick some butt.
Randy: All right!

Jill: Hey, Tim?
Tim: Jill, we gotta talk.
Jill: Yeah.
Tim: Um... Randy's situation is a lot like the psychic antelope that pig out all summer long and finally act like buttheads to the Russians.
Jill: I was with you right up to, "Jill, we have to talk."