I must have done something to my car’s muffler yesterday, because now whenever I drive anywhere it sounds like I”m riding a bicycle with about two packs of playing cards stuck between the spokes. Despite the fact that this will most likely be an expensive annoyance if I need it replaced – and if some random sharp rock spanged up and poked a hole in he miserable bastard, I can’t exactly slap some duct tape on it to fix the problem – it also means that I now drive a stereotype.
I took a trip out to south Jersey yesterday to help a pair of friends unpack their stuff after moving into their new house. About 75% of the way there, after crossing the Ben Franklin Bridge and tooling down Route 42 towards their house, I noticed that my car was emitting a deep, full-throated roar whenever I stepped on the gas pedal.
I found this noteworthy because I drive a 2002 Honda Civic with a 4-cylinder engine, and the usual sound my car makes when you step on the gas is that of four exhausted gerbils racing like mad in their little exercise wheels under the hood. Going uphill is especially hilarious, as I can literally plant the accelerator to the floor and just mosey up the hill at an embarrassingly leisurely pace while people behind me lose their god damned minds, so when my car’s usual wheeze of an exhaust hum was replaced with what sounded like of a pair of gorillas mating from my backseat, naturally I was a bit nonplussed.
Taking a quick look at it revealed that nothing seemed to have shaken loose under there, which means that it’s most likely a hole somewhere causing the racket. As far as car problems to have it’s a lot better than others, as for the most part it’s just a major annoyance as long as the damn thing isn’t drooping like a male porn star after a long day at work and sending sparks out whenever I go over a speed bump, though I’m sure I’ll be popping Xanax like a champ when it comes to paying for a replacement muffler.
Despite all that, there is indeed a silver lining to this story, as my car now sounds like one of those horrible Tokyo Drift cars that obnoxious boy racers drive. It even looks the part too, as it’s not just a Honda Civic but a black one with tinted windows. All I need now is a set of spinning rims and to start blasting horrible music at stop lights and I’ll be all set.
The funny thing is, though, that the car doesn’t match the driver in the least. I mean, let’s be honest: I’m a fat half-Jew from rural Pennsylvania, driving around South Jersey in a black Civic with tinted windows. Oh yeah, and New York licence plates. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry!