There’s a guy in the street with a very loud motorbike, or do they prefer to call them motorcycles?
Is there a difference? I don’t really know.
He has some consideration for his neighbours, rolling down the hill in the morning before clicking it over and shaking the birds out of the trees with his zero-to-100-in-3-seconds motor, or whatever it is.
Now, I have no objection to people enjoying their toys. But why is it that some toys have to upset the peace and quiet of an otherwise refined neighbourhood?
I note that at Edens Landing recently, police managed to arrest a hoon thanks to community video footage.
Good on you, Edens Landing. You’ve managed to lean on people power to overcome at least one clown whose thrills are found at the inconvenience of others.
I personally haven’t ever seen or experienced the joy of a donut, unless it’s glazed with chocolate icing and a few hundreds and thousands.
Nor have I ever found delight in the smell of burning rubber.
Police have rightly launched in to help stop hooning in our suburbs. There are surely venues where the thrill of speed can account for whatever addiction these fools have to narrow roads near homes and their lounge rooms.
My motorcycle friend is probably a very nice guy. But does he need to announce his arrival and departure with such bravado?
Can the idiots who seem hellbent on burning through expensive sets of tyres not find an empty paddock away from the communities some of us like to call home?
Can drag racing not be limited to tracks which have been built for the cause?
Will I fix anything? Probably not.
Do I feel better, having vented my anger? Too right I do.
