Trevor: It's a lonely old road, ain't it?
Lamar: Lonely? Hey, I couldn't say. I mean, not really. A road's a road, it ain't got abandonment issues.
Trevor: Truckers on the blacktop, making do.
Lamar: I don't need to make do, I need to make snaps on these rides.
Trevor: Sure, yeah, the time will come. It's what happens before we get paid is what. Franklin's asleep. It's just me and you.
Lamar: What? What you trying to say? You want me to jack you off or something?
Trevor: Jesus. No. God, no. Of course not. Unless...
Lamar: Man, you's a sick fiend.
Trevor: Just fiendin' for some friendship.
Lamar: Friendship? Right. Whatever, man.
Trevor: It's just...Truckers are a symbol of this country. Part of its mythology. Like cowboys, gangsters, hobos, gangbangers.
Lamar: Truckers are about the unsexiest myth I ever heard, apart from hobos. Maybe tied with hobos.
Trevor: Freedom. Loners in the night. You know what truckers do?
Lamar: Cut up women and get other dudes to jack 'em off? Come to think about it, aside from not lugging freight round the country, you got about all the necessary prerequisites for a fine career in haulage.
Trevor: No shame in that.
Lamar: If you don't wanna get paid or enjoy human contact.
Trevor: Money's bullshit, and so is friendship.
Lamar: Alright, alright, alright. I see you still touchy.
