Reese: You want me to show you again?
Lois: No, Reese. I'm afraid.
Reese: So you're chicken, huh?
Lois: Yes!
Reese: Oh. Mom, you might not know this, but I used to be afraid of a lot of things. Thunder, frogs, mailboxes...
Lois: You were afraid of mailboxes?
Reese: I used to imagine that if I stuck my hand in a mailbox, it would slam shut and rip my hand off, but I simply conquered my fear by ripping the lid off of every mailbox in the neighborhood. I turned that fear into hate. And you have to hate that bike just as much.
Lois: I don't have hate.
Reese: You've got hate in there. You just have to find it. Do you hate work?
Lois: Surprisingly, no.
Reese: What about your life? Your best years are gone, and they weren't so good.
Lois: I don't hate my life, Reese.
Reese: What about the stuff I've done to you, like when I baked your shoes, or broke your wedding china, or when I sold those tickets to those fifth graders to watch you shower?
Lois: You did what?!
Reese: Perfect! Now direct that anger to the bike!