Community: Real Life

Gimp my ride


Debs

Debs is a final year journalism student who thinks the best things in life start with the letter G. Grilled cheese, going out, getting presents and giggling.

Boy racers should really think about what they look like before getting in their fancy cars, says Deb.

In my eyes, for a guy to be 'cool' he has to be kind, caring and a real gent'. Although that may sound a little corny, a bloke who thinks his souped-up car will make him every girl's fantasy, is simply a fool.

My infuriation with boy racers began when I was in my mate's car last weekend. In typical M25 fashion, hordes of overexcited holiday-goers jam-packed the motorway on the way to Heathrow and frustratingly we came to a halt. I put my feet up on the dashboard and wound down the window to alleviate the stuffy, claustrophobic feeling. Just as I began to relax, the car began to violently shake. I thought that my time had come and I was about to relive Jurassic Park when the Tyrannosaurus Rex attacks the Jeep with the kids in.

The car started shuddering and the door panels rattled. As students we weren't in the sturdiest of runabouts: "Well it gets me from A to B", my shabby-car owner friend bellowed. I was worried it was going to collapse and kill me. As the shudders got louder, a jet black car cruised up alongside. Realising the thumps were in fact musical beats from his tyrannosaurus-of-a-sound system, I placed my hand firmly over my chest to soften my pounding heart. Compassionately, I thought of North Alaska and hoped his bass wasn't causing catastrophic avalanches.

Why did he need to irritate the hell out of the whole motorway? An obvious conclusion: boy racers crave attention. Well, this guy had certainly got ours and now everyone was glaring at him. I think that boy racers are the reason why everyone within a half mile radius gets high blood pressure. Their cars, if you can call them that, sit on four things that even the guy who invented the wheel would be ashamed of. This particular driver had 'TURBO' written across each 22 inch wheel beast. Turbo what? From bonnet to boot, he had four thick 'go faster stripes'. Oh my God, they make me cringe. As a person not usually concerned by trivialities, most of the time I tell people to 'sort it out' and 'get a grip'. But in this case, all I want to say is: "You've pissed me right off."

As he cruised pass, he titled his head and gave me a "How you doin" nod. I certainly wasn't doin' any better for seeing him, or the back of his car which was now, unfortunately, in full view. My hand gripped the door handle as I considered leaping out and shouting: "What the hell is wrong with you?" His exhaust pipe was so large I wondered if it was a black hole leading to another dimension. If only it was, I could drag him from his spruced up Corbeau Boss seat, which incidentally cost around £200, and hurl him down it. It's seriously insulting.

"Here I am trying to do my bit for the planet, while he carelessly bombs through London releasing CO2 emissions equivalent to that of China."

Here I am trying to do my bit for the planet, while he carelessly bombs through London releasing CO2 emissions equivalent to that of China. Suddenly, all those Tuesday nights I've spent in the garden sorting through my soggy recycling now seems like a total waste of my time; not to mention how it's ruined my nails. If people like him are going to undo all of the environmentally-friendly things that others do, then it's no wonder we feel disheartened when we're encouraged to cycle to work in the pouring rain.

We had now been waiting for over seven minutes to move forward in the traffic jam. As cars finally started to move, his foot pressed hard on the accelerator pedal in a carefully practiced manoeuvre that ensured maximum wheel spin with added smoke and sound effect; seriously what a dick!

As a deafening 'vroooooom' sound came tunnelling through his exhaust, I imagined a cargo train speeding down a track. Obviously feeling inadequate about his contribution to noise pollution, he violently thumped his horn at an unsuspecting driver in front, who was apparently a 'w**ker' because he dared to slow down. Of course, this boy racer had a superior technique when it came to traffic on the road. I couldn't really see how his abusive behaviour was going to help shift the hundred cars that lay ahead.

Intelligent? Einstein hasn't met this guy. He's only gone and spent three-quarters of his university loan buying the chrome styling and exhaust trim. And it doesn't end there. In an impressive list of achievements he can now proclaim a mounting debt, a car that comes with a 'how to wash' manual and the ability to give all surrounding drivers a migraine. Well done boy racers, I say.

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