As a kid in high school, it was my wish to have enough power in my car's sound system to make those fortunate to spend any time in my back seat to have a concert experience, so much so that I hoped to have passengers waving their lighters over their heads shouting, "Freebird!" Or at the very least, I hoped that they might wince as the volume creeped ever closer to that mystical Spinal Tap Eleven.
I accomplished this to a fair degree with the help of a few friends who worked tirelessly with me in my parent's garage for hours until we had moved the polite standard two-way speakers from the back and stuck them in the door, and installed a pair of big watt Jensen Triaxial speakers where the little ones used to be. It took many hours and several jigsaw blades, but before the night was over, I had one screamin' machine. There are those who suggest that putting that much time into the stereo of a 1972 Vega may have been an irresponsible investment of money, and effort. To them I would only ask if they had heard "Renegade" by Styx in my back seat. Without that experience, I feel they are unfit to judge me.
These days Styx still shows up on my iPod playlist from time to time. I think about the days when I spent most of my quality music time behind the wheel. I think about the cars driving by on my street that I feel blocks before they pass by because of the thumping bass that they carry around in their trunks. After they go by, I hear the rattle of ever nut and bolt, straining to hold the car together against the massive vibrations they are generating. There are even some who have rigged a speaker outside to share their music tastes beyond the booming bass.
The first thought through my mind is: "You kids turn that noise down!" Followed almost immediately by, "I wonder how many jigsaw blades they went through to get that thing installed.