Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

But if you try it, you could kill them.
who does not exist.
(KITT) I'm so glad you're here. They've got Diane. Hurry!
(Michael) Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty...
Thanks.
KITT, warm up your microwave jam?
[engines roaring]
Yeah. What side is that?
I'm going to consider slapping you with an obstruction charge.
It is not going to help Stacy.
(KITT) Michael, the airport logs confirm Taylor's alibi.
Take good care of it, huh?
I know that. I'll handle Jack.
his Cougars should have no problem with the Mustangs on Sunday.
Don't you think I know that?
Okay, bright eyes. What have you got?
(KITT) Obviously not. Could it be we're dealing...
She's also your best friend.
I feel a pulse, but it's weak. Well, somebody's gotta call an ambulance!
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you.
[explosion]
[sighing]
Our number two man can give you quite a race.
Now do me a favor. Disappear again.
Five laps, Mr. Knight.
(KITT) Michael, his fuel tank's ruptured.
(KITT) Glad to have you back in the driver's seat, Michael.
(Bonnie) The signal's stronger now, but it's in multiples.
All right, KITT. 36, 24...
[tires screeching]
His daughter Stacy was in an accident last night.
This isn't a social call.
You don't want your boys here to think...
Because if I ever hear of you asking questions again...
You remind me of him a lot. No kidding.
Banzai!
and we've got to do it again sometime.
I'm sorry about that, Michael, but I fail to see how that postpones our work.
You got the wrong club, stretch.
Okay, stay in touch.
Lay it on me, pal. They call themselves the Racer's Edge.