Junior: Frankenstein scores! Frankenstein scores at last! But what kind of a score, boys and girls? Just 80 points out a possible big 700. What do you think, Gracie?
Grace Pander: Well, those doctors - dear friends of mine - have been pretty smug all these years setting up the old folks. Frankenstein must have decided it was their turn.
Harold: Which only goes to show that even the fearsome Frankenstein has a one-hundred-percent, red-blooded American sense of humor, heh heh.
Junior: Frankenstein! Frankenstein the legend, Frankenstein the indestructible! Sole survivor of the titanic pile-up of '95, only two-time winner of the Transcontinental Road Race... Frankenstein! Ripped up, wiped out, battered, shattered, creamed, and reamed... a dancer on the brink of death... Frankenstein, who lost a leg in '98, an arm in '99! With half a face and half a chest, and all the guts in the world, he's back.
Cleopatra: It isn't my fault everyone scored before us. You should have gone after that boy scout camp like I told you.
Nero the Hero: I tried the goddamn boy scout camp. You know how fast those boy scouts move?
Cleopatra: Now here's something more your speed.
Nero the Hero: That'll be at least 200 points.
Cleopatra: If they scatter, go for the baby and the mother.
Joe: You know Myra, some people might think you're cute. But me, I think you're one very large baked potato.
Harold: Is it true that with your new mechanical arm you can shift gears in less than a twentieth of a second? Would you care to comment on that?
Frankenstein: No.
Harold: How do you feel about going into the race with a navigator you've never met?
Grace Pander: You'll love Annie. She's a red-hot sexpot.
Frankenstein: She'd better be a red-hot navigator.
Chosen answer: Like the Olympic gold medal winners, the winner gets t.v. exposure, acting roles, product endorsements, VIP treatment into exclusive parties and bragging rights. By blaming the Resistance, that paints them as the villains and keeps the race going.