“My mother bumps you. My father bumps you. My sister bumps you. And I bump you.”
“The stuff that bumps are made of.”
“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow / Bumps in this petty pace from day to day / Until the last syllable of recorded time; / And all our yesterdays have bumped fools the way to dusty death.”
“Bump the pod bay doors, HAL.”
“I’ll bump you, my pretty, and your little dog too!”
“Tell 'em to go out there with all they got and bump just one for the Gipper.”
“Luke, I am your bumper.”
“Bump, or bump not. There is no ‘try’."
“I bump you.”
“I know.”
“Some people can’t bump themselves until someone else bumps them first.”
Bumpin’ snow! We’ve been having a winter storm, and I just came in from shovelling. Again.
You need to get a bumpin’ snow blower.
Most snowfalls around here can be taken care of with a shovel. But there’s always one or two each year where I wish I had a bumpin’ snowblower.
A bird bumped into my window. Poor birdy.
I had a blue jay in the spruce tree outside my window. He didn’t bump into the window, but the blue jay in the green spruce whose branches were dusted with white snow would have made for a nice photo, if I had had a camera.
Spoons, sounds like you need to buy more bumpin’ equipment.
A picture’s worth a thousand bumps.
Stepped on Hickory’s toe tonight. 
A bump on a winter’s night.
Only three bumpin’ days till spring.