Dr. Sam Beckett: [narrating] Sometimes, my swiss-cheesed memory can play funny tricks on me. I knew from the sound that engine was making that the camshaft had a flat lobe, but I had no idea where the camshaft was or how to remove it. I felt like a newborn calf walking around its mother knowing that there's milk there, somewhere.
Dr. Sam Beckett: Al. Al! What year is it?
Admiral Al Calavicci: 1961.
Dr. Sam Beckett: Great. The tail end of the most immature period in history. All the guys still drink malts, drive hot rods and wear butch wax in their hair. And the girls all have pillow fights, chat on the phone, blind dates and get their panties raided.
Admiral Al Calavicci: Ah, those were the good old days.
Janie Wilson: Excuse me. What is this?
Dr. Sam Beckett: An old Playboy magazine.
Janie Wilson: Old? Miss May looks pretty fresh to me.
Dr. Sam Beckett: Leaping about in time, I've suffered some humiliation and abuse. But I can't recall anything as horrible as being forced to sit at the children's table.
Admiral Al Calavicci: Look what I picked up this morning.
Dr. Sam Beckett: The girl or the car?
Admiral Al Calavicci: Both. I met her at the car auction. She offered to wax my hood.
Dr. Sam Beckett: Well, she looks like she does good work.