Really loud motorcycles. Damn it.
I'm not sure how common this is. But I have a switch in my brain, that if triggered compels me to clinch my fist and glare daggers at the offending party. I am instantly and involuntarily transformed into fight mode. I'm not immediately violent in fight mode. In fact, I've been in only one fight in my life and that was in 7th grade. But my neck hair is standing up and I am definitely ready to start swinging. Some events that consistently trigger the fight mode reflex are the following:
- Getting hit in the head. I was once mowing a lawn and a low hanging branch jabbed me in the back of the head. I punched the tree. Picture that for a second. I punched a tree. What the hell is wrong with me?
- Getting my shot blocked while playing basketball. Man that pisses me off. Which is a tough one because I suck at basketball.
- The sight of every single jaggoff on the new "Miracle Whip is really cool" TV commercials. I want to be clear. It's not the commercial itself. It's the hipster trash that is in the commercial that triggers the fight switch. Especially the defiant hipster chick at the end of it. I am not a violent person. I certainly don't advocate violence against women. But don't you kind of want to smack the sour anger off her face? Especially as she walks confrontationally toward the camera. "You can't escape me! You want me to tone it down and eat mayonnaise. BUT I WON'T DO IT! I defy your up tight social conventions and demands for conformity with Miracle Whip. Suck on that, society!" Hipsters will claim that their alleged culture is being co opted by this ad. I would suggest that it is a perfect representation. That's right. All of their ironic fetishizing and cultural snobbery is as genuinely cool as a commercial for fake mayonnaise. All you douchebag hipters out there should be quite proud.
- Seeing anyone wearing a Laker jersey at the Energy Solutions Arena. It brings out the territorial dick inside of me. I assume they are not just cheering their team, they are sticking it to me. Taunting me in my own building. It also means that they were either born and raised in Utah but cheer for the Lakers. Or they are a transplant from Southern California to Utah and never stop bitching about the cold and how "there's better restaurants in Orange County." Either way they are an asshole.
- Being startled by car alarms. Can we agree that these no long work? It doesn't demand everyone's attention like they may have 15 years ago. Instead they're like a crying baby on an airplane. People try their best to ignore it, hoping the noise just stops. Anyone could steal a car while the alarm was blaring. Hell, onlookers would be happy to help steal the thing, as long as it made the noise go away.
- Not being able to get up on one ski while waterskiing. I've never been able to do it but I try every time I'm on a boat. It really is a bad spot to be in. Getting dragged by the boat, everyone giving you advise that doesn't make sense, knowing that your crappiness is killing everyone else's good time. And when you slowly fall over to the side and take an unwanted gulp of lake water you then have to float there for a while waiting for the boat to circle around. When I'm in that spot, I don't punch the water and flop around in some childish tantrum (although I want to). But the fury must be released. So I will always lower my head under water and unleash a filthy, hate filled tirade of profanity. The poor fish never see it coming.
But the fight switch trigger that I want to focus on is this; really loud car and motorcycle engines. Oooo man, do those piss me off. If I am relaxing on my front lawn only to have my peace shattered by a blaring asshole racing down the street, I immediately want to fight them.
Apparently, there is some catacomb of the male brain that is hardwired to their boner and instinctively loves the obnoxious blaring of an engine. The louder it is, the bigger the dick must be on the man gunning the throttle. Flawless logic. I am red blooded American man that loves football playoff games in the snow, bloody steaks cooked medium rare and big jiggly boobs. (You probably shouldn't click on that if you're at work or have a shred of decency. Seriously.) But I do not share this facet of the testosterone infused mind. Of all the above stated irritants, loud ass motors are the most intense fight switch triggers I have. And they are the most common offenders.
I used to live in a house on 21st south with a bunch of friends. It was a dump affectionately termed "the taco". It was a stucco house that kind of looked like a Taco Bell. It also happened to be pink. My room shared an exterior wall that faced the street. At least once a night, some asshole would be clamoring up the street with some needlessly loud motorcycle or car, waking me up and sending me into instant fight mode. The thing that drives me crazy about it is the fact that every single driver of a bullet bike, fake Harley, actual Harley, neon blue WRX or gigantic Ford F350 with obligatory Tapout sticker in the window has the ability to be virtually silent. If they wanted it to be. Every other damn car on the highway manages it. This means that this offense is elective. In every case. This makes it inexcusable. But somehow, these jackasses feel compelled to demand our attention by startling the innocent with the worst sounding noise I can think off.
And that noise is indefensible. Whether it is the dentist drill whine of a bullet bike, the garbly barrel of marbles that is the Cummins Diesel, the bone shaking roar of a beat up Camaro or the irritating buzzing of some Japanese video game car, loud engine noises are not a good thing. It screams out, "There is something mechanically wrong with this car. Please fix it!" This is far more of a public hazard than second hand smoke. Where is the nanny state when we need it?
And it's not just cars and bikes. What is so difficult about putting a muffler on a lawnmower? Or a weed whip? I don't know the mechanics of it. I realize that they are different kinds of engines than a car. But it's a muffler. It's not that complicated. Also, I love to snowmobile. I usually go a few times a year. It's an incredibly good time. But just imagine if all you heard while zooming throw the snow covered mountains was the swish of of the sled against the ground. It would be a way better experience. But it isn't even an option.
A few years ago, I had a notion to buy a road bike. I searched around the internet, looking for something that was reasonably cheap and reliable. I wasn't going to drop 15 grand on a Harley. A used Shadow would have been just fine. But every damn ad I read for a used bike bragged about how loud it was. It would be one thing if somehow you could convince me that a loud engine is somehow equivalent to a really nice bike. If only Harley's (which are undeniably badass) made loud noise, then I would grant you that connection. But it is not the case. Any dip shit can buy pipes that amplify the engine noise and help that same dip shit compensate for his repressed homosexuality. "I'm not gay! How can I be? See how loud my bike is!"
Yeah, there aren't any gay bikers out there.
The funny thing to me is, why would anyone want to attract attention to many of the cars that have intentionally loud engines? What is so incredible about your piece of crap Honda Civic? Why would you put one of those coffee can mufflers on a car that you bought for thirty five hundred bucks? I see your tinted windows and electric green paint job and pink license plate light. I hear the bass of the techno music you're playing inside. But why would you really want everyone to turn their heads and look at that perfume laden pig? Dress it up all you want, it's still a thirty five hundred dollar Honda Civic and we all know it. Does it do a Tokyo drift? Will it beat Vin Diesel's car off the line? It sure sounds like it will. Buuzzzzzzzz!
You know, I'm being unfair. Because when I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that I like it when people look at me. I like to feel really manly all the time too. And I don't settle for subtle expressions of that manliness. No I prefer overt, undeniable displays of my masculinity. That's why whenever I'm in a crowded elevator or in a movie theater, or a library, I unzip my fly, remove my scrotum (not the full package, just the balls) point to it and scream as loud as I can.
Everyone looks right at me. And they can see that I am indeed a man. It's very effective. I don't care that it infuriates every person in my immediate vicinity. Inconsiderate? Bah! They just wish they were louder than me, with bigger balls. They just can't handle my in your face attitude. Really, if they are put off by my boisterous self expression, it's their problem not mine.
But loud engines still piss me off.