Life was going pretty well for Brad. His brother’s recent visit to Hotel Hakea meant he was now the proud custodian of a WRX. A car that’s delivered more rock than a mining conveyor belt.
Alas, his brother never got around to upgrading the exhaust pipes to produce a suitably obnoxious number of decibels for the true WRX enthusiast. He told The Bell Tower Times,
“I’m glad he’s banged up, it’s neglect is what it is. Why even buy a WRX if you’re not going to heavily modify it to become a nuisance to fellow road users? His business partner knew what he was doing, had a modified R33 that’s now confiscated. That thing could give you a migraine 6 ways to Sunday”
Knowing his pipes weren’t as big as the other’s kids, Brad decided to take the risk and live out his dream to become one of the many heroes who treat the tunnel as the stage on which they will conduct their obnoxious orchestra.
He wanted to be known as a man who feared no yellow sticker. A man who thought nothing of splitting eardrums and melting the hearts of 17-year-olds looking for their knight in all-wheel-drive armour to take them to McDonald’s on a Thursday night.
Sadly, his dream soon turned into a nightmare. His raging car STI-ffy soon became floppy as he sunk down into the damp patch of his anxious sweat. While he hit some pretty decent speeds in there he knew that he caused a mild aural inconvenience at best.
No one even grimaced or turned up their car stereos in an attempt to drown out the sounds of Brad’s engine. He never felt like less of a man. He’d stepped up to the plate but ended up thumb packing his inadequacy in the ear hole of a couple of motorists who didn’t care.
Talking to us after the run, Brad was as deflated as a truck’s tyres under the Bayswater Bridge,
“Tell me honestly, how was I? Was I loud enough? Did I make your chassis rattle? Did you…?”
No, sweetie. No one even came close to experiencing the body-shaking anti-euphoria of having their tranquil tunnel drive ripped apart by raw, piston-pumping power.
After crying in the shower for 45 minutes, Brad spent the remainder of his night looking up “cheap exhaust hacks” until he could afford to upgrade properly.
It was a depressing scene and could take months until Brad even feels comfortable showing his face in a 5 car pile up during a Saturday night car cruise.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?
