The Fast and The Obnoxious

We all know the drill: you pull up to a stoplight, the world underneath you begins rumbling, you look to your left, nothing, you look to your right…

and there he is: the problem.

With blatant disregard to the world around him, the problem sits in his little neon hatchback, playing his “music” at such a volume that words and melodies become undecipherable. At this decibel level, the “music” morphs into a giant pulsating rhythm, more a feeling than a sound. You know this because you suddenly feel it paralyzing your body. It gives you an instant headache and— somehow, I don’t really understand it, but it happens— you are quickly rendered nauseous. Finally, after the light turns green, homeboy gasses it and, his car void of a muffler, he takes off like it’s the start at Daytona.

Here’s what I want to know: why do people subject themselves to this? Obviously it’s a popular subculture, considering they made about 27 of those Paul Walker movies. But, why?

I have a bit of experience on this issue, because my hometown of High Point used to be the unofficial capital of “cruising” in North and South Carolina. Back then, an onslaught of these peeps would show up each weekend in their powder-purple Preludes and clog up our downtown with their loud engines and louder music. I thought it was all very silly until I turned fifteen and began hanging around a guy who was hip to the scene. SO… for months I rode around in his Honda CRX, listening to Nas (“If I ruled the world…”) and Wu Tang (“I begged, I begged, easy on…”) at a volume that would make even Hellen Keller clasp her hands to her ears.

Point being: listening to music at that level is not only obnoxious to everyone around you, but it’s painful to yourself. So my questions is, why? I can sort of understand wanting to do it as a kid— you know, showing off your individuality and coming off rebellious and all that angsty jazz— but why, as a grown person, would you subject yourself to this kind of pain?