Every week day, at about 4am, a neighbor down the street starts his car up before his morning commute. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a problem. It would simply be a mundane part of someone else’s routine that would go unnoticed. However, this gent is a gearhead, like many in the neighborhood. One who likes vehicles with exceptionally loud, throaty, large displacement engines. As a fellow speed freak and car lover, I get the affinity for such creations. I’ve worked on Nascar level race cars at Irwindale, and clung to the chain link fence at Pomona while top fuel cars fly by at hundreds of miles per hour. It’s more addictive than sugar, and twice as sweet. What I don’t get is people who feel the need to drive the loudest car in the neighborhood when they’re one of the first to get up. It wouldn’t bother me as much if he didn’t sit there warming it up for at least 20 minutes before heading off. Idle? More like a minor earthquake! ...
Musings about chronic illness, pro-wrestling, cars, love, and other things.