Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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