What makes minds tick in a house of 6 where
the majority vote lies with The Youth.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Who was that hoon?

In my teens everyone was doing it, in my twenties it was totally de rigeur, in my thirties it was generally tolerated, but now that I've hit forty, my hoon driving has become officially unacceptable (to selected persons anyway). I'm not sure if you know the type of driving I'm talking about, so let me live it for you here. The sunroof is open, all the windows are down (regardless of wind chill factor), the stereo is at ear-bleeding, sunnies are on. Music selection is incredibly cool, of course, and all other family members have been dispatched from the car. It's just me, the stereo and the open road (or Anzac Parade). The speed limit is not necessasrily being adhered to at this point.
In my own mind I'm this hip, urbane, groover behind the wheel. But then there's the time-space continuum. Strictly speaking consciousness is subjective, so I can be whomever I want in these little hoon fantasies of mine. However, the continuum does allow for other realities and I suspect that mine may be at the delusional end of the Bell Curve.
Let's take a moment to study, shall we, how an unbiased voyeur may see things. Observe, the mother in the 4WD with the four baby booster seats arranged in the rear of the vehicle. Note, the harried look and furrowed brow. These seemingly inocuous details are vital in determining what we have here. She is The Ageing Hoon, unable to glide gracefully into middle-age, into sensible shoes and grown-up couture, into blow-dried hair and Blackberries.
The Youth have declared my hoonish behaviour mildly amusing, sometimes alarming but only acceptable if their choice of music is playing. My husband vascillates between love and loathing. He loves it on a Friday night after a dinner out when he can play Joy Division as loud as he likes and hang his head out the window yelling at passers-by. He hates it on a Saturday morning when my erratic antics bring on billious attacks.
Yes, it may be juvenile behaviour on my part, but I like it and I'm sticking with it.
But this does beg the question: how old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?


  1. Old Chevvies never die - they just go faster

  2. Ah yes - a good (eternal, you might say) question. I was having this very conversation just the other day after reading Scott Adams' blog ( http://www.dilbert.com/blog ) in which he discusses the idea of one's 'permanent age' - essentially, once you've kind of 'formed' your age is set - and, indeed, we've all met those twenty somethings who are really just forty something waiting to happen - but, more and more, probably because we're 'allowed to', when people 'act their age' it's back down around the early twenties - even if they're over 50 (hem hem)
    (And when you're hooning alone - do you SING?)

  3. Absolutely not! Singing would just be plain sad. Perhaps a bit of head nodding though.