To Tyler, his newly acquired Nissan Skyline is the hottest car on the road, and he’s going to light it up like a Tibetan monk at a petrol station protest. To live out his fast and the furious fantasy he had to cop a hefty loan. The onerous repayments clashed against his McWage and insurance was a luxury he had to skip. What would possibly go wrong ay?
Well, loads of shit because when it comes to driving Tyler is about as experienced as a Docker at a cup polishing competition. He forgets blind spots, brakes rapidly and most importantly he doesn’t double clutch like he should.
Now is not the time to think about theoretical disaster, because as soon as he pulls out of the dealership, he almost caused a very real disaster. He failed to see one of those pesky, inconspicuous busses that the driving schools warn you about. “Oi, watch it!” He arrogantly squeaks.
For the next half hour, he rides so far up peoples arses that you’d think he was on a first date with a Mandurah girl. The only thing that stinks worse than his bravado is the burnt rubber every time he has to slam on the brakes to avoid making his bonnet look like a pug’s face.
At the 45 minute mark, he has hit the main road. It’s time to live his life one-quartercunt at a time. He hits 140 and starts swerving in and out of lane like a drunk backstroker.
His joyride is halted when an aggrieved tradesman hurls his 3rd can of Jack at Tyler’s car, “learn to drive shit-for-brains”. Still, everyone else is wrong, and Tyler is right because he has 50 hours of supervised driving experience and has a poster of Paul Walker in his bedroom. He exits the main road and enters a local driftopia of wide streets and quiet traffic.
At the one hour mark, he spots an Asian girl taking an afternoon off from the family restaurant. Now, if his weekly Fast and the Furious marathons have taught him anything, it’s that Asian chicks love drifters.
He plans his peacockery and figures that if he comes around the corner again sideways, he will have her undies so monsoonal that the UN will need to send aid.
He takes the corner at pace, jerks his wheel and hits the gas to attempts and straighten up. It is at this exact moment he realises he has absolutely no idea how to pull off this driving manoeuvre and careens towards a showcase rose garden.
He clutches his wheel like a meth-addled truckie with a dead hooker in the back and prepares for impact. BOOM, he rear-ends into the car in front of him and writes off his new whip. Which reaffirms the general rule, dudes who think they are street racers, always drive the shittiest.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?